


Star Wars Eclipse

by Xanaphia00



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanaphia00/pseuds/Xanaphia00
Summary: What happens when a dead Jedi finds a dead Padawan in the outer rim?Kaydia Voss is a former Padawan, assassin, and junkie, turning her skills on the cartel that ruined her life. Quentin Hall is a Jedi Shadow, hunting his first love, and the woman who  "killed" him.Brought together by chance, neither can deny their attraction, even as it interferes with their individual goals. Still, each carries secrets that could put their lives at risk if discovered.





	1. Burying the Past

_Mustafar, 30 BBY_

"Who is it?" Zerrid An asked through the intercom, studying the hologram figure before him. The human scientist was tall and thin, with mousy features and thick-rimmed glasses.

"Shadi, from the Twilight Companion Agency," A buxom blonde announced, affably. She flashed a million credit smile, letting her fur coat open enough to reveal the tight leather dress she wore underneath. The door to his suite was opened immediate, Zerrid greeting the young woman with an intimate embrace. Helping her out of her coat, he could not help his eyes from wandering down her voluptuous figure.

"Can I get you something? A drink, or maybe something stronger? I have some Merakuya honey, or Giggledust or Inertia? You know _I_ invented Inertia, so I have the best stuff." he offered, leading her back towards the bedroom area of his suite. The blonde swallowed hard at the mention of Inertia but did not falter.

"Oh, no thank you, Mr. An. I never indulge before my task is complete," she answered sweetly, in a faux-innocent tone. He nodded absently at her response, his grey eyes darkened in distant recognition of the phrase. Shaking his head, he chuckled lightly.

"Well now, far be it from me to distract you from 'completing your task'" He half turned to look at her, catching the electric smile upon her plump pink lips. He opened the bedroom door and ushered her inside, closing and locking it behind them. Coming up behind her, his hands brushed her hair aside, and his breath was hot upon her bare neck. Hands traveled down her arms and he breathed in her scent, vanilla and citrus.

"Did they tell you what I was looking for? Before they sent you?" he whispered in her ear, dragging the strap of her dress down over her shoulder.

"Of course, sir. I understand you require a _firm_ touch."Shadi explained, untying the belt of her dress, let it open and puddle at her feet. All she wore now was the tiny black panties and thigh high boots. She could feel his appreciation for her nearly nude figure from behind, growing into the curve of her ass as he pressed his body against hers.

"Very nice," he admired, "let's get started right away." She watched with feigned interest and excitement as he undressed as well, and lied upon the bed before her. Climbing over him, she got into position, hands pushing down his shoulders as she interred him between her thighs. Her hands came over to his neck now, the slender digits tightening over his muscles.

"Is this good, sir?" She asked in a coquettish cadence, licking her lips as she looked down into his eyes.

"A little harder...please," he demanded, pushing his hips into her core. She obeyed, her fair hands drawing red marks from his skin. After a few moments of strained sighs and moans from her client, Shadi spoke up again.

"Want to see something incredible?" she asked, giving him the first real smile of the evening. She didn't wait for him to answer, given his difficulty in that, currently. "Look, no hands!" She giggled darkly, as an invisible force continued to strangle the man beneath her. His eyed widened in terror as he began to process what was happening to him.

"The best thing about this is that now I can do this," Shadi explained, as she pulled the blonde wig off of her head, letting the wild tangle of red curls spill over her shoulders.

"Scarlet!" he managed to gasp out, as the realization washed over him. The name drew hot hatred from her, which she channeled into the force choke.

"That's not my name. That's the name _you_ gave me when you turned me into your drug addled assassin," she spat at him, not yet seeking to end his life, just to keep him in pain. "My name is Kaydia Voss." The voice was not the light, playful voice of a high-end escort. Her voice was dark, like deep space.

"Tell me, Zerrid, how does it feel, dying at the hands of the assassin you created? Is the hubris more painful than your lungs bursting?" She purred, as the force grip tightened over his windpipe. He didn't answer, couldn't answer, his trachea constricted and crushed and his eyes bulged out of his head.

Kaydia got up and dressed without a word, replacing the blonde wig. The bedside table was littered with bottles and vials, including a cloudy white one that was familiar to her.

_You have completed your task, Scarlet. You have earned your reward._

The dead man said it, though not right now. Not this time, just dozens of times before now. She could feel her mouth salivating, almost on cue. She picked up the vial, swirling the liquid, even three years since she kicked it, she craved it. One little taste, to celebrate the revenge she was taking on the ones who did this to her. Hands shaking, she swallowed down the yearning, dropping the bottle on the wood floor and smashing beneath her heeled boot.

She walked out to her speeder, sitting in the cockpit for a moment, breathing deep, letting the hatred and rage pass through her. She hit a button on the communications device and waiting for the click that assured her it was ready.

"It's done," She said simply.

"Very good, Scarlet," she flinched at the name, but she wasn't transmitting video, so it didn't matter, "We are ready to move into phase two. Your contact will be waiting for you at the rendezvous in twenty minutes."

"I'll be there," Kaydia hailed, pulling her speeder into gear.

 


	2. The Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Scarlet discuss the next job.

"Sure you don't wanna join in?" Meryik -a Zeltron with skin so pake he was pink- asked, shuffling. "Cards are hot tonight..."

"Naw," Sharn laughed, throat-crest rippling with the sound. "You so don't want old Quinn there in the game. He's a wizard, he is."

Quinn Hale laughed as well. He was a man who seemed to have been designed to blend into a crowd. Handsome, but not distinctively so, with hair too dark to be called blonde and to light to be called brown, and eyes that were either blue or green depending on the light. He wore a khaki jumpsuit, well- laundered but still marked with faded oil stains, and scarred black boots, and a utility belt with a blaster and a vibro-knife and the hilt of a mass-produced lightsaber. "Hardly a wizard," he chuckled.

"God-damned luckiest merc I've ever met," Sharn replied, waving at the saber. "And there's that thing..."

"What, my saber?" Quinn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause I'm clearly a Jedi, slumming it on Mustafar with my AdascaTek L322 'Cutmaster' here." He patted the weapon. "Just like I was a Jedi last night, over at the Velvet Spire, and..."

"Why do you pack a saber?" Meriyk asked, dealing the cards. "It's a bit... eccentric, after all."

Quinn shrugged. "I'm good with a blade, ain't I. And it cuts through damn near everything." He smiled thinly. "And I never cared much for a fair fight." Just then, his wrist beeped, and he checked the display. "And I gotta go, boys. Have a drink on me." He tossed a fistful of dactaries on the table as he rose.

"Business?"Meriyk asked, idly curious.

"Depends on how you define it," Quinn laughed, tossing down the last of his drink. "Remember that blonde from last night?"

Meriyk frowned, then nodded hesitantly. "Shade. No, Shadi. The gymnast with the rack?" He grinned as the memory returned. "Business then? Or pleasure?"

"Bit of both," Quinn laughed, heading for the door. "Bit of both."

In truth, it was very much going to be business. He was playing driver and bodyguard for 'Shadi' - Scarlet, if you wanted to be professional - both for a fat stack of credits and an introduction to the Black Sun because freelancing was a dead-end career path for a merc. He didn't know what she was doing. He hadn't asked, although he had an idea - he knew Scarlet by reputation, after all. All he was worried about was meeting her at the rendevouz in ten minutes.

Whistling a merry little tune, he climbed into the seat of his speeder and kicked it into gear.

* * *

 

Kaydia wore deceit like a second skin. Deceit took the form of Shadi, the blonde escort, for a bit longer, as she made her way to the Velvet Spire, to meet her contact. The Velvet Spire was a high-end brothel in the Capital City of Mustafar. It was also one of the holdings of the Black Sun, a legitimate business front for the syndicate. It was used for various cartel business, such as, in this instance, a place for Shadi to conduct her affairs. Management knew the deal, knew better than to ask questions, and provided the cartel's assassin with a cover for her escort persona. She was free to come and go as she pleased.

Kaydia was surprised to find herself back here. It had been three years since she left the life since she kicked drug habit that had kept her enslaved to their demands. She had tried to move on, but the reach of the Black Sun was far and wide, in the outer rim. Life would never be simple for her, so long as the Black Sun held power out here. What else could a former junkie assassin do but turn her skills on the people who had turned her into a killer?

So she made a contact within the Black Sun, someone who had infiltrated the organization from the inside. A Jedi. Just like she had been before they took her. Before they twisted her into their tool. Before she succumbed to her own darkness. For now, she was cleaning house, taking out those who had betrayed the syndicate, but in time, she would have those that were responsible for what she had become.

To move forward, however, meant she needed some more muscle. She was a damn good assassin, but that didn't mean much to a criminal organization as big as the government on a smaller planet. So she waited at the bar on the first floor of the Velvet Spire for her contact to arrive.

Quinn Hale, a for-hire merc who was smart enough not to ask many questions, as long as he got paid. She watched him walk into the bar, the confident gait, with a tune on his lips and a lightsaber at his side. It still caught her breath, had her wondering if The Order was finally getting around to eliminating her, over a decade since they abandoned her to her fate. But it didn't mean anything, way out here on the outer rim. Lightsabers were a thing of pride among the hitmen and bounty hunters out here, and every decent killer boasted at least one.

_You have a Jedi among **your** kills, don't you Scarlet?_

She drank down the voice, the last vestiges of a conscious beaten down by years of contract killing and drug use. His eyes meet hers, as he made his way to her. "Right on time, Mr. Hale. Shall we adjourn to my room, or are you buying me a drink first?" She asked coyly as he got within ear range. He was rather handsome, in the dark lighting of the brothel bar. Handsome in an unremarkable way, in a way that nagged at the back of her head, as if she had seen him somewhere before.

* * *

 

Security at the Velvet Spire didn't hassle him too much, this time. After all, he'd been here yesterday and hadn't torn the place up. So they welcomed him by name and reminded him that this was a peaceful establishment while looking pointedly at his weapons. And he assured them that he was just there for a good time and that he only started trouble if he was getting paid to start it, and then offered to check his weapons as a sign of his good faith. They let him keep them.

The downstairs three levels of the Spire could have easily passed for a high-end nightclub, because that's exactly what they were. Subdued lighting, tastefully expensive decor, and a layout that mixed dance floors and dining areas and private little alcoves for conversation. The staff were all gorgeous women and handsome men of various species, and all were available fir the right price. Quinn, with his jumpsuit and weapons, stuck out among the other patrons like a Gammorean.

"Right on time, Mr. Hale," 'Shadi' remarked as he joined her at the bar. "Shall we adjourn to my room, or are you buying me a drink first?"

The question earned him a dirty look from a Correlian in a dark suit, who'd clearly been planning on approaching her himself. Quinn didn't blame him. The leather dress she wore fitted her like a second skin, displaying a supple dancer's body, and it was all too easy to imagine that dress sliding down her curves. What a pity that it was an assassin's body, and that he was here on business. "A drink first, I think," he replied, glancing at the Correlian. "We've got all night, after all."

It ended up being two drinks, actually, for the sake of appearances. And then she clung to his arm with an easy grace as they made their way through the club and up the elevator, chatting and flirting until the door of her suite locked behind them. And then the persona vanished along with the posture and wig, and a tall, confident woman with a mass of shockingly red hair vanished behind a privacy screen. Scarlet emerged a few minutes later, casually dressed in a black tank top and slacks. 

"Our first target is Vouru Kiash, mid-level Black Sun Officer. Meeting with a representative of a rival syndicate. It's low key, they weren't trying to attract attention with this one," Kaydia explained, pulling up images and surveillance on her datapad. "'Shadi' is providing entertainment for the meeting, your job is to back me up if something goes wrong."

"Discrete backup, or flashy?" he asked. "That is if things go ploin shaped, do I just pull you out? Or do I spread a whole lot of pain and misery around in the process?" He grinned. "I'm good with either. I just want to make sure I'm prepared."

Kaydia narrowed eyes at him as he asked about the plan.  "Discrete." 

He took the datapad, ignoring the electric sensation as his fingers brushed hers. "Oh, and are we just hitting Kiash? Or are we taking care of this... ah..." He consulted the information on the screen. "Balish Klynt?" With a few deft strokes, he copied the file to his pad and then slid it back. "Again, I don't care either way. Just want to make sure."

"We are hitting all of them. Kiash, Klynt, and the bodyguard a piece they will probably have there," She explained, transitioning back into the professional. "Since Xomit Grunseit took command of the Black Sun, all the other syndicates have been pushing into their territory. Trying to strike at perceived weakness. A swift, decisive hit is the message they want to send other cartels and the disloyalty within their own ranks." Kaydia explained, leaning back on her elbows.

It was aggravating how easy it was to slip back into the role of enforcer for the cartel, the cartel she was trying to take down. It felt like two steps back for every one step forward. _Have patience_ , she tried to tell herself, even as she did their dirty work for them. It spoiled the victory of hitting Zerrid An should have been for her.

"Any further questions?"

 


	3. Something Like a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Scarlet get to know each other a little better.

Linora Sunfell stood in the suite of the now deceased Zerrid An, examining the scene of the crime.

"What does it look like happened?" A gruff voice came from the communicator. Linora examined the body causally, already pretty confident of what she would find.

"Looks like he succumbed to his favorite past time. Autoerotic asphyxiation with a side of Inertia overdose," she reported coolly as if her employer shouldn't be surprised to hear such a thing.

"So, an accident?" the voice queried.

"Possibly, let me just check his data..."Linora spoke into her communicator, as she glanced through the files on his datapad."So, that vacation he took last month? Turns out he was on Nar Shaddaa."

"The Hutts were trying to poach my scientist?" Xomit Grunseit growled in response.

"Didn't have to try hard..." she murmured. "He sent them a shipment of his latest batch of Inertia."

"That rat!" the falleen exploded into his communication device.

"It's fine, sir. He only sent them a shipment, not his recipe. Which we still have." Linora explained, confidently. "Once the Hutts get their population addicted to Inertia, they will have to come to us for more supply."

"That is...solid reasoning, Sunfell. You may have a Vigo position in your future. If such a thing ever opens up."

Linora bent over at the side table, examining the broken vial on the floor. She smiled to herself as the cloying scent filled her nostril. "Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if it did."

*****

"Discrete, but with no witnesses. Got it." Quinn pursed his lips at her final question. "And yeah, I do. Since I'm the discrete backup, do you want me sitting out in the speeder? Or do I need to get a nice suit and tag along?" He gave a small shrug and rummaged around in his belt pouches. "Again, either one's fine. But you'll want this if I'm staying outside." With that, he tossed her a small package. Opened, it revealed two small lozenges.

"Well, I don't usually travel with a bodyguard, so it's going to look suspicious if you came up with me," Scarlet reasoned. 

"Those are passive transmitters," he explained. "Designed to be swallowed - souvenirs of a discrete job I took a while back. Top secret Republic stuff, very hush hush. Keyword and voiceprint coded so they won't broadcast unless you trigger them. And then it's a compressed burst on a randomized cycle - once every three to ten seconds." He leaned back, watching her reaction. "They digest or pass through, so I wouldn't swallow one until you're getting ready tomorrow." Another moment's pause as he watched her face - not a difficult thing, really. She was easy to watch.

"Also," he added with a wink, "plenty of time to have it checked for poison. You don't know me from Chancellor Valorum, after all. I'm not gunning for you, but I'd be disappointed if you didn't take the precaution." 

"Sounds good. And yes, I will have these checked for poison or drugs or things I am allergic to. Hell, you might kill me by accident, without even meaning to. And have the Black Sun come down on your ass."

With that, he turned his attention back to the copied files. "In the meantime, I'll see about committing the blueprints here to memory. And scope out the site. Discretely. Figure out the best approaches, things like that. I really don't like surprises, unless I'm the one doing the surprising."

He tucked the datapad away. "But that'll have to wait. I'm supposed to have retained your services for a couple of hours. It'll do bad things to my reputation if I'm out of here in fifteen minutes. You got anything else you want to go over? You're the one on the sharp end, after all."

"Stay awhile. My, well _, Shadi's_ reputation on the line too, if she can't keep her clients occupied and enthralled for more than fifteen minutes," Scarlet offered, standing up to stretch now. She put the package he gave her down on with on the vanity, mixed among the various makeup and perfumes.

"I am pretty set on my end of things. It's not anything I haven't done before..." She started, looking through her wardrobe and picking out potential outfits for tomorrow. Pleasant tension filled the silence until she broke it by giggling. 

"There's, uh, nothing stopping us from fucking, at least nothing I know of. It would pass the time." She said turning now with a wink. "You could be one of the lucky few I fuck and don't kill after or during." She picked a strappy black dress with high slits and a low neckline. Holding up against her body she turned towards him.

"I could fuck and not get murdered?" Quinn laughed. "What a generous offer!" It was tempting, though. Even in prosaic slacks and tank top, she was stunning. And in that leather dress she'd worn in the bar..? She was an erotic dream come to life. And then she picked up a dress - could you call that black assemblage of straps and spaces by that word? - and held it up to her body.

"What do you think? Would this make you stupid enough to lower your guard?" She asked, with a teasing glimmer in her gaze. 

He licked his lips, visualizing her in that outfit. And then out of it. "I think it would," he said returning her frank gaze. "I can feel the thought of it draining the blood from my brain."

"Why don't you tell me about that lightsaber. Every bounty hunter I come across with one has an epic story to tell about how he wrenched it from his opponents hands."

That drew a chuckle from him. "An epic tale?" He shook his head, laughing. "Not really, and I'm convinced that the majority of the people who do have one are lying their balls off."

"Oh, I am sure too. Doesn't make their fantastic accounts any less entertaining," Scarlet clarified, hanging the straps passing for a dress on the inside of the wardrobe, "So you have about ten years' worth of bragging and tall tales to compete with. I've heard all nature of them, from men and women trying to get between my sheets and legs."

Watching her reaction carefully, he drew the saber and turned the gunmetal hilt in his hands. "See, not all lightsabers are Jedi weapons. This one, for instance, was manufactured on an AdascaTek production line in the Arkania system. They manufacture a few thousand a year, catering to a select market." He flipped the hilt in the air and caught it. "Wanna-be's, mostly. And a few people like me, swordsmen who don't want the bulk of a vibroblade and who see the practical utility of a tool that cuts through most anything."

Another grin. "So my epic story? I headed over to Arkania IV and dropped a couple of grand in a factory. Pricey, but it doesn't come with the recurring costs of killing a Jedi and waving one of their swords around." He clipped it back to his belt. "I don't mind that kind of heat from business, mind. But not because I'm trying to save some money."

*****

"Oh, my dear Quinn," Kaydia started, meeting his gaze with one of her own. "the truth? Never go with the truth!" She took up a firing stance now, holding her hands in a mock gun formation. "No, no, you were tracking a daring Jedi." She pantomimed a run motion, hiding behind the chair in a dramatic fashion. "They had you pinned, every shot you took, reflected back." She made a few firing motions, followed by exaggerated dodging motions. "So you had to outsmart them. You managed to get behind them and..." She flicked her wrist with flair, making the blaster sound with her mouth.

"Besides, it's not like there is much in the way of Jedi presence, all the way out here," She said softly, coming dangerously close to something approximating sincerity. She pushed back against the buried emotions and gave her guest a pointed look. "Now, for telling the truth? I am going to have to rescind that offer of sex. Amateur move there, my friend, amateur move."

"Amateur move?" Quinn protested, miming a hurt expression. "You've been associating with wanna-bes for far, far too long. Honesty is always the best policy, professionally and personally." He tried to hold the hurt expression as he added. "At least, that's what my last girlfriend liked to say. Until I told her about how I wanted a threesome with this hot Chikladorian I'd been seeing on the side..." The hurt expression wavered as a cheeky grin spread across his face. "Turns out she didn't care for honesty."

He looked around the room. "How about you? Is prostitution just a cover, or a second line of work?"

"What, trying to figure out if you can afford me?" She teased, dropping to the bed now. 

"Maybe," he shrugged. "How honest should I be, right now?"

"It a rather good cover. Maybe if I ever retire from this..." 

"Not bloody likely," Quinn said, flatly. "People like us, we don't retire. Even if we try..." He patted the blaster on his hip. "This life never lets us go. I'!ll probably die from a blaster bolt in the back. Or maybe someone like you will kill me if I ever get successful enough."

His words held more truth than she liked to admit, but she didn't want to dwell on that now. It was a depressing thought, while she was sober enough to process it. And she really didn't want to end the evening this way. He was a pleasant distraction from a life filled with angst and regret, and she wasn't ready for that to end.

"Hungry? I can have some food sent up," She offered, pulling out the room service menu. "And don't worry, I'll make sure to look appropriately disheveled when I open the door." She placed an order of kommerken steak with ootoowergs, for both of them. 

It was easy to be around him. The playful banter, the longing looks, the exchanged smiles. If it were a first date, it would be an unqualified success. Even the awkward silences never seemed to last long.

But it wasn't a date. It wasn't a casual meeting between people seeking to ease the loneliness afflicting them. It was a meeting of professionals, to discuss the men they intended to kill tomorrow, under the guise of a prostitute and john. Maybe in a different life, they could have been something more, something beyond starships passing between the same stars.

"So, how has Mustafar been treating you? Like the hive of scum and villainy it's known to be?" She ribbed, stretching out over the bed.

"Nah," he chuckled. "It's not as bad as all that. Most of the scum indulge in professional villainy, so there's no violence without reason. Been a vacation, really." He gestured skyward. I've done a lot of work in the Core, and even on Coruscant." A flicker of a smile. "Mustafar - even Nar Shadda and NalHutta - have nothing on the noble houses or merchant princes for scum or villainy."

 _Coruscant._ Damn, had long had it been? Ten, eleven years? She was a different person then, with a different life ahead of her. She would have never met someone like him when she was there. Not like this, while they joked about fucking and killing.

He peered at her, again appreciating the form on the bed. "Seems to have done well by you."

Mustafar, he meant. She swallowed down the scoff she wanted to release. _Real fucking well for me. Junkie, whore, killer. My master would be so proud..._

Kaydia managed a weak shrug. "Alright, I guess. Better than being a slave, or whatever." She muttered, recognizing the irony in her statement. She wanted to will herself to say something witty and clever, to fall back into flirting with him, but the burden of her life on Mustafar was weighing down on her now. Fortunately, there was a knock at the door, and a hologram of a waiter with two trays on a platter came up. She approached the door, slipping back into the wig and pulling her fur jacket over her as if she had come naked from the bed to the door. She took the plates, with a smile and a wink, and brought them back over to him, setting it down on the table.

"I think I have a bottle of Alderaan wine unless you want something stronger," she advised pulling out a bucket of ice and fetching the preferred vintage. "Aged 5 years, so a bit newer. I'll pull out the ten-year vintage when we are successful, tomorrow." 

"Nah, wine's fine," Quinn said, sipping his drink. "I don't have the most refined of palates, but this isn't bad." He took another sip. "Left to my own devices, I'm more of a beer man. With an occasional whiskey."

She poured a couple glasses and took a seat, meeting his eyes. She was determined to figure out exactly if they were blue or green, even if it took all meal. Eating a fine meal, drinking wine, gazing at one another in the dimness of the room.

It was how funny how easily this meeting between slipped back towards a date.

Quinn cut a bite of steak, speared an ootowerg, and tucked it into his mouth. "Now steak? Very much a steak man. And the chef here has done an excellent job." Throughout the meal, Quinn kept looking up at her. Kaydia knew this, because she kept glancing up to look at him, and met his eyes nearly every time. It could have been awkward, catching each other staring like that, but never got that far. Just giddy exchanged smiles and a warmth crawling up into her cheeks and pooling in her stomach. It was unusual for her to flirt with a person she was actually attracted to.

"All right, I'm gonna be nosy." Quinn declared. He gestured absently around the room with his fork. "This room's a cipher. As much a professional mask as 'Shadi' or even 'Scarlet'. Makes sense, I guess. But... what do you do for fun? Fucking and killing can't be your whole life."

"You'd be surprised. I don't usually have a handsome man to do my legwork." She winced slightly at the admission of finding him attractive, but what was the point? It was more fact than opinion at this point, and surely he was aware of it. Men like him knew that they were handsome.

"Usually I have to stalk my target, learn their schedule and routine, come up with a plan, scout out the place where I plan to kill them...It's rather time-consuming, in reality. And when I am not doing all that? Well, keeping my skills fresh and current is rather demanding as well." She took a couple large bites, chewing slowly giving herself time to find a better answer to give him. What else did she do _? Stewing in my anger, getting loaded off drugs and planning elaborate revenge plots._ That sounded...depressing. But even before she was pulled into this life, there wasn't much time for hobbies. Padawans were kept awful busy between missions, as it were. Training with the force, with their lightsabers, the endless meditating...

"I keep up appearances. I party with high rollers, I shop and blow thousands on shoes and clothes and jewelry. I keep up with the gossip and drama of the famous and infamous. It, uh, sounds rather vapid, when you say it aloud like that, doesn't it?" She said with a sigh. 

Quinn finished up the last of his steak. "It does sound vapid," he agreed. "But, hell, that's what downtime is for. A couple of drinks, a little gambling, some work translating the Mrynnryoth Yal'Vedar from archaic Yarloti R'ylothic..." Grinning, he made a show of covering his mouth and looking embarrassed. "Oops. There I go again, being honest. Does that mean the offer of dinner is now withdrawn as well?"

She pushed her empty plate aside, filling her glass with more wine. Looking over at the clock, she drained her glass in a single long swallow."Your time is about up. Unless you wanted to pay for another hour," She purred running fingers over his hand. But she knew he wouldn't. There were things to do, before the job tomorrow, and they were both too professional to let base urges and ridiculous chemistry get in the way of that. Besides, they would be spending lots of time together, in the next few days.

"Oh, it's not a question of whether I want to pay," he answered, winking. "But I've glanced at your rates, and I'm frankly surprised anyone believes _I_ can afford them." Regretfully, he pushed himself back from the table and rose. "So, should I muss up my hair? Maybe try to walk a little funny? After all, you've got a reputation to maintain."

*****

Ignoring the glances he received as he emerged from the elevator, Quinn crossed the dance floor and headed for the door. Outside, he waited patiently while the valet brought him his speeder, and then tipped the man generously as a way of apologizing for making him drive the beat-up old junker he owned. The valet - human, because the Velvet Spire prided itself on having all of its staff available - nodded and smiled, and Quinn slipped into the driver's seat. It groaned a little, the worn synthleather of the seats creaking and cracking, and he shoved an empty box of takeout noodles into the cluttered well of the passenger's seat. He'd probably need to clean that out before tomorrow night, just in case. No need to risk blowing a job on a cluttered vehicle. The speeder's engine purred to life without hesitation. Like so many of his possessions, he let it present a beaten and battered mask while ensuring that it functioned perfectly.

"So," he murmured aloud as he moved the speeder into traffic. "The infamous Scarlet is Force-sensitive? This puts a whole new intriguing spin on matters."

 


	4. The Hit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job doesn't go as planned.

The next 24 hours were busy.

Quinn began with a drive-through of the region surrounding the meet, then parked his speeder and walked around. The small but elaborate scanning equipment in the glasses he wore built up a three-dimensional map of the area and walking let him get a feel for the streets and the layout. Then it was back to Voroth's to negotiate the rental of a better class of speeder from Meriyk. He liked his own transport, but it was utterly out of place where he was going tomorrow.

Then it was back to his ship to plan some escape routes. He and Scarlet were both professionals, so he assumed things would go well. But it always paid to plan for the worst - that way, when it happened, you could cope. Satisfied, he crawled into his bunk and got some sleep. Sleep was unexpectedly fitful, filled with dreams of Scarlet. Some erotically charged, but others tinged with memory. He awoke frustrated and horny, and with the strongest sensation that he _knew_ her from somewhere.

He would have to consider that later, though. For now, Quinn Hale needed to disappear. So he pushed himself into the tiny fresher and let the ultrasonics clean the day's dirt and grime away. Then he spent a profitable few hours altering his appearance. A hair rinse, darkening him several shades towards brown. Contacts that turned his eyes grey. Nostril and cheek pads, subtly changing the apparent structure of his face. Inserts in a pair of black dress shoes, changing his walk and posture slightly. To all of that, he added his best suit, cut loose so he could conceal a number of interesting tools and weapons of questionable legality.

Quinn Hale's career had been long and varied. "Merc" barely scratched the surface of his resume.

At the appointed hour he looked up in front of the Velvet Spire in a sleek black stretch speeder. Stepping from the driver's compartment, he looked every inch the sort of chauffeur/bodyguard that the Black Sun might employ. He strode towards the doorman. "Quipan Viss," he declared, using one of the names he'd given Scarlet. "I'm supposed to take Shadi to a party for my employers."

All of which was true. From a certain point of view.

*****

Kaydia sat in from of the vanity combing out the Shadi wig. Already dressed in the strappy dress, she spent a few more moments as herself before putting on the mask. Quinn was supposed to pick her up within twenty minutes, and after demonstrating a professional punctuality in their first two meetings, so she had no reason to suspect he would be late today. It was plenty of time to put on makeup and her wig.

She opted for a dramatic look. Bright red lips, dark intense cat eyeliner, smoky eyeshadow and big fake lashes. Just the kind of dolled up high-end escort who would be hired to entertain a small meeting between potential business partners. The blonde wig was the last piece to complete the masquerade. She paired the provocative dress with a long leather trench coat, cinched at the waist, just barely exposing her cleavage if one were looking hard enough. Lastly, she picked up the lozenges, having had them thoroughly checked for toxins. The plan was to take them right before going into the meeting.

All that was left was to wait for Quinn to arrive.

"A Quipan Viss is here for you." Came the voice over the intercom.

"I'll be right down," was her reply, replacing the contacts. Shadi had blue eyes, to go with her blonde hair. She made her way downstairs and outside, nodding approvingly at the speeder he brought.

"Shall we?' She asked, making her way to the passenger compartment of the speeder. He wasn't quite the casually handsome man she had shared dinner and banter with the night before. Underneath it all, he still was, but it was different enough that most people wouldn't pick up on it if they didn't know. She might not have picked up it if she didn't know. If she didn't have a reason to pay attention. Suddenly the gnawing feeling that they had met before came back. Had she seen him in one of his disguises? How long had he been on Mustafar? If was possible they had crossed paths before.

It probably didn't mean anything. They ran in similar lines of business, after all. As long as he wasn't gunning for her...She took a moment, accessing those abilities that she tried to keep hidden, especially around the kind of men who liked to carry lightsabers on their person. At the moment, knowing if he intended to hurt her seemed more important than concealing her ability to manipulate the force. Besides, Jedi didn't come all the way to the outer rim with no back up to do odd jobs for Cartels. That was just absurd.

There was a cold detachment about him, as she probed for emotions. A professional, in all ways, including in his mind. She closed the mental link and relaxed back into the leather, getting herself into that same professional detachment disposition, overlaid with the playful personality of a working girl.

Layers upon layer upon layers.

The meeting took place at a safe house, where these kinds of clandestine meetings always took place. Bribing bureaucrats, intimidating law enforcement, colluding with politicians, and apparently making deals with rival cartels to divert shipments their way. At the right price. That was Shadi's job, to make one side so stupid the other got the better end of the arrangement. People, men in particular, were stupid when it came to sex, which is why she wore the Shadi mask most often. She swallowed the transmitter lozenge.

Outside the house, a Trandoshan andGamorrean stood watch, leering her as she approached. The Gamorrean was probably here for Balish Klynt, the representative of the Hutt Cartel. Which meant the Trandoshan was guarding Vouru Kaish. She approached him now, stepping into Shadi's skin.

"I do believe your boss is expecting me," She announced in a sultry timbre, meeting his eyes. Trying to at least, as his eyes wandered down her figure and drank in her cleavage. She didn't to look at the Gamorrean to know he was also gawking.

"I imagine he is," the bodyguard said when he finally met her eyes again. The was a look of lust and jealousy in his eyes, yet also filled with the knowledge that she could be bought. Even by a man like him, if this deal went through. Of course, everyone could be bought if one possessed the right currency.

With a nod, she was let in, and in the living quarters, she came face to face with a Quarren, Balish Klynt, while Vouru Kiash, the Falleen, sat with his back to her.

"You hired some entertainment?" Balish asked, watching her take off her coat to reveal the rather revealing outfit she had chosen to wear.

"Yeah, to celebrate our deal!" Vouru declared, holding up his half-full glass.

"We haven't come to a deal yet," the Quarren reminded him, not yet done inspecting Shadi.

"Well, we should get back to it then," The Falleen suggesting, draining his glass. "Or we could take a break from talking and enjoy the lovely company of..." He looked at her know and for a brief moment his brow furrowed before it relaxed, and he grinned at her "What is your name, hun?"

"Shadi," She said with a smirk, giggling as the Falleen pulled her into his lap. Despite his actions, she could sense fear and anger in him now, at the sight of her, and the mention of his name. This wasn't good. "Could I get a drink? Maybe a Whiskey?" She said, activating the communication pill she already swallowed, alerting Quinn as to the trouble she was anticipating.

*****

Quinn settled back into the soft leather of the rental speeder as he watched Scarlet walk towards the building. Any other time he'd have been content to simply watch her move, as there was a sensual grace in the sway of her hips and the movement of her legs. But this was business now, and he maintained a professional detachment as she chatted with the door guards and then passed within.

A Trandoshan and a Gammorean, he noted. The kind of muscle you hired if you wanted to look like you had hired muscle. Big and intimidating. He figured he could kill them both if he had to. But, he reflected as he started the speeder up, it would be better if he didn't have to. Quiet, clean jobs were much nicer jobs.

The speeder slid away silently. No need to alert the thugs at the door that he was more than the chauffeur. He parked a half kilometer away, watching the front entrance through the feed from the microdot camera he'd left the previous evening. The resolution was grainy, and the images black and white, but they would serve.

Cracking open a bottle, Quinn poured himself a cup of tea. This was going to be a long night.

After a bit, his earpiece crackled to life. Scarlett's voice came through, along with the voices of the others in the room. All were flat and mildly distorted, a side effect of the compression and decompression, but something about the tones made him set his mug aside and listen more intently.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

*****

"Now, Shadi, I should tell you, I am in mourning today," Vouru explained, hand on her chin to keep her looking into his eyes.

"Oh?" She asked with feigned interest. Probably some ploy to get special attention.

"Yeah, my good friend died last night. Zerrid An. Brilliant scientist. And interestingly enough, according to the holovid security, I recovered from his place shows he had one visitor last night, just before he died. You." The Falleen explained as she felt the cool steel barrel of his blaster pistol press against her throat. She did not show the fear that was pooling in the pit of her stomach. "So, I am guessing that I finally get to meet the Cartel's assassin, Scarlet. I really wish it had been under better circumstances."

"Now, you are going to tell me who sent you to kill me. And Then...maybe we each take a turn with you. Let you prove that you are worth too much to get dumped in a ditch." The blaster pressed against her chin as he whispered in her ear, the other hand still wrapped around her waist.

"Linora Sunfell," She said without hesitation. It was life or death now, and if that name escaped this room it was death for her for sure. Assuming she escaped at all. Still, though, there was a chance. Sex did make men stupid.

"That human bitch?" he asked thoughtfully, before nodding as the idea grew on him. "I didn't think you'd give the name up so easily." She could feel his grubby finger groping at her breast.

"I am loyal to my credit account alone. And I can't get paid if I am dead," She explained simply, holding the fear and disgust just below the surface. The Falleen laughed.

"No, no you can't," he said, eyeing the skin exposed by the panels of her dress. "So why don't you give up being an assassin, and take up whoring yourself out? I bet you are better on your back..."

"You have no idea," She whispered back at him, running a finger down his face. "They send me because I am the best death imaginable." Despite his grasp, she started standing, pulling him towards what the bedroom. "Why don't I show you? Or does your friend get to go first?"

Vouru looked over at Balish and snickered, "Fuck that, I paid for you." He kept the gun trained on her as he rose, a lascivious grin growing on his face. She returned his smile with one of her own, as she spotted the sharp corner of the stone stairs. Channeling all of her fear and anger to that point, she pushed Vouru, the strength of her force attack sending him flying away at high velocity. His head connected with the stone corner in a sickening crunch, green blood pooling under his body. Luckily for him, the death was instantaneous.

She kicked the pistol out of the Quarren's hands as he fumbled to aim it. Reaching out into the force, she visualized his heart, pounding in his chest. Her finger tightened into a fist as she saw it in her mind, feeling it throb with increasing intensity. The powerful muscles fighting desperately against her grasp, sending adrenaline throughout his system in rapid motion. The hatred and fear she felt soon overcame his resistance, as the organ popped from the pressure, leaving Balish to seize on the ground painfully for the last minute of his life. She sprinted over to the gun and hid behind the door frame, anticipating the arrival of the two bodyguards any moment now.

****

Fuck.

The little bursts of compressed and uncompressed audio made it abundantly clear that things had gone utterly ploin-shaped inside. He couldn't see what was going on, of course, but it was clear that Scarlet's identity had been revealed. "So, I am guessing that I finally get to meet the Cartel's assassin, Scarlet." That was a dead giveaway.

He fired up the speeder, then froze for a heartbeat at another exchange. "Linora Sunfell." He'd been looking for her for years. He'd known she was involved. But... hearing that name, after all this time? It still struck him hard. Unbidden memories of the young woman he'd known - he'd thought he'd known - flooded back, reminding him of better days. When he'd been young, too, and they'd been in love.

Before the bitch betrayed everything they'd believed in. Before she'd framed him for murder.

He stuffed the emotions away. "There is no emotion," he growled to himself, hurtling the speeder forward and trying to believe the words, "there is peace." Time enough for recriminations and memories later. For now, Scarlet needed backup.

The speeder tore through the dark streets, slowing to a halt before the gates. Quinn tumbled out the driver's door and moved, scrambling to the top of the speeder and vaulting the gate in a smooth leap that should have been impossible without a running start. His blaster - a heavy Mandalorian thing - seemed to materialize in his hand, and he blasted the Trandoshan down as he turned to see what had happened. The Gammorean dodged left, then left again, steadily advancing as he kept ahead of Quinn's relentless blaster fire. Holes gouged in the walls as his shots impacted moments too late. The big creature came in at him, axe flashing.

Quinn spun, pivoting with the blow. As a result, although his blaster spun away from his grip, he as still in a single piece. He completed the spin with balletic grace, a snake-hiss and a wan white light accompanying him as he completed the turn. The Gammorean barely had time to squeal in agony as the pale blade sheared through him, slashing upwards from left hip to right shoulder.

Quinn was running for the door as the bisected Gammorean hit the ground. Time enough to find his blaster later.

*****

Kaydia heard the blasters going off outside. Quinn had her back. Or he was already dead. That thought brought rage and guilt, emotions she was having trouble pushing down.

 _There is no emotion, Kaydia, only peace._ Master Bry-Ta words came through, trying to soothe her, trying to get her to focus. _Feel through the force. How many heartbeats are out there?_

She tried to calm herself, to sense the other beings out there, but the only heartbeat she was aware of was the one beating out of her own chest. It was too late for Jedi teachings now. Too late for her, as the two dead bodies in the other room spoke for. As dozens of dead bodies before her had set in stone her fall from the light side. The path she had started upon when she killed Master Bry-Ta.

The door burst open and she stiffened for a moment, fingers turning white over the handle of her gun. A deep breath later she peered out, pistol before her, ready to take a shot as a potential hostile. But it was Quinn, lightsaber in hand. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, as she fixed the top of her dress and came out from behind the door frame.

"You are well worth whatever I am paying you," She praised, reaching for her trenchcoat. 

"I'm worth a lot more than that," he countered, making the saber disappear inside his suit coat. "But I'll take the compliment anyway."

"Let's get out of here. Someone from Black Sun will be by to clean up the mess."

"Mess?" he asked, a smile curving his lips. "I see no mess. I'm pretty sure that the both of us were several kilometers from here, having a quiet dinner in a discrete restaurant I know." The grin got a little broader. "A discrete restaurant operated by a friend of mine. How could we have possibly seen a mess here, when we were there?"

As they exited the building, he glanced around. Stepping into the shadows of the corner for a moment, he returned with the pistol he'd been forced to drop earlier. "Of course,' he added, tucking it away and opening the gate, "not leaving evidence behind lends credence to our story. And are you hungry? I did actually make the reservations, so we may as well shore up our alibi by being seen there."

The playful banter was surprising. And welcome. Her heart still pounded from how close she had come to being the one dead on the floor, but seeing him alive and safe, and not even mad that she mussed up the job? She was feeling much better already, the darkness encroaching upon her already fading away. She returned his smile, genuinely, to her own surprise.

That he had prepared an alibi for them was also surprising. She hadn't asked him to do that, and wouldn't have bothered herself. Black Sun had all the law enforcement in its pocket. And the one who couldn't be bought? Well, she had seen to them personally, when she was the cartel's loyal killer. She was caught in the guilt, for a moment, as Quinn picked up his pistol from the bushes.

"I would love that," she said warmly, following him back to the speeder. He was charming, and it would be nice to lose a few hours in his eyes and company. While she swallowed down the craving for Inertia that bounced through her brain. It was a Pavlovian response. She completed her kill, she earned her reward. And the numbing effects of Inertia would drown the rage and fear and disgust that had powered her attacks, and continued to course through her veins. But, perhaps she could find something else to crave. Or someone, as she eyed her handsome companion.


	5. The Alibi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn arranged for an alibi. Or date?

Kaydia took a seat in the back of the speeder, just as she had arrived here. She fixed her make up while back there, occupying her hands to distract her from intrusive thoughts. Once they were about half to the restaurant, she turned on her communicator.

"It's done. Kiash, Klynt, their bodyguards, all dead." She wasn't exactly trying to hide what she was doing from Quinn, but she wasn't doing it openly either. He was there, it's not like any of this was news to him.

"Alright, the credits will be deposited into your account within the hour. How did it go?" The voice was purposely distorted, but Kaydia knew who it was.

"Not great, but they are all dead. Did you know Kiash had access to Zerrid An's security holograms?"

"I had my suspicions."

"And you didn't warn me?" Kaydia's voice rose, becoming a whispered shout.

"Hey, you want to hit bigger targets, you need to prove you can handle yourself even when shit hits the intake valve. Which you have, so I'll have another job for you tomorrow."

"Another job? This is quick, even for me." Kaydia countered

"And it will be worth it. You're hitting a Vigo. Besides, you'll need to do all the legwork on this one. I can't know anything until it happens."

"Fine, send me the details for the meeting," Kaydia said before cutting off the communication. It seemed she and Quinn had arrived at their reservation.

The restaurant was a small sort of place, lacking the amenities that would have possibly earned it a 5-star rating but still possessing a quiet charm. The lighting was subdued as was the music, and the serving droids were grey and dark blue with a matte finish. The proprietor was a stocky Snivian, and he met them at the door. "Quinn, my boy!" he grunted, offering a blunt-fingered hand. "Good to see you. I've been so glad you were coming that a few minutes made it seem like you were an hour late."

Quinn, who had shed his disguise as he'd driven, shook the Snivian's hand. "Just a few minutes, though. Sorry to keep you waiting, Malri. Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce my associate, Shadi."

Malri took hire hand and bowed his head over it. For on a distance, he could have been kissing it, but the wet snuffling sound he made left no doubt that he was smelling her. "A pleasure. A genuine pleasure. Please, follow me."

He led them to a small corner table, positioned so that two occupants could keep their backs to the wall discretely. Quinn drew a chair for her, then joined her at the table. "Here you are," Malri said, handing each of them a plasmaprint menu. "Joaca will be your waiter." He glanced at Scarlet. "Would you like to start with some wine? We have an..."

"I don't really have a palate for the stuff, Malri," Quinn commented.

Despite being barely a meter tall, Malri managed to look down his snout at the mercenary. "That's why I didn't ask you," he said, pointedly. "I asked your lovely associate." He looked back at Scarlet. "Ignore him. He is a barbarian, and you are clearly slumming by being in his company. May I recommend the Guerre Stellari '77? It is a bold rose wine, comparing favorably to the best of the FortresseCachee roses bottled by the famous Bright Black Swamp vintners of Riben II."

"That sounds lovely, I think I will take a glass," she said in approval, meeting his gaze. Truthfully she wanted something harder, but that was Kaydia, and she wasn't Kaydia right now. A high-class call girl doesn't down hard liquor on a date with a client, she sips her wine properly.

It was almost funny. When she was a padawan she loathed all the rules the Jedi Order and had lain down for her to follow, and yet even as far removed as she was from the Order now, she still had just as many rules to follow. Sometimes more, as she balanced disguises and covers and instructions from her bosses.

She caught Quinn's eyes over their menus. Yesterday she was quite certain she determined his eyes to be green, in the dim lighting of her Velvet spire, however, glancing over now, she swore they were blue. What a pity. She was going to have to spend the entire meal gazing into them again, just to be sure. The thought drew a soft giggle from her lips, which was a welcome diversion from twitching fingers craving chemical release. She took his hand, to still her fingers. Shadi was an affection woman after all, so it was in character. It was nice when her wants and the needs of her persona overlapped.

Joaca approached the table with her wine and Quinn's drink. "Are you ready to order?"

"How is the BivoliTempari?" She asked, cognizant of how strange it was to ask a droid's opinion of food.

"Highly reccomnded," The driod reported, as it was programmed to, no doubt. Never the less Shadi nodded her head.

"I'll have that then, and a salad."

"And you, sir?" the droid asked.

"The maarl quick-fried noodles," he decided, "with lemish sauce. Medium heat. With a side of steamed toklroot."

"Very good, sir," the droid answered, turning and wheeling away. Quinn watched it leave, then turned his attention back to the woman at his side. He regarded her in silence for a moment, then smiled.

"So. Did I manage discrete?"

She chuckled at the question, between sips of wine. "Hmm, something like that." A longer drink now, feeling his eyes on her and finding she didn't mind it so much. "So, is this how you celebrate a successful job? A fine meal at a charming restaurant? A fawning woman on your arm? Or am I special, somehow?" Her finger escaped his hand and traveled up his arm. 

"Oh, I'd say you're special," Quinn responded. Two could play at this game, after all. "I generally don't celebrate quite this lavishly. But then again, my last couple of jobs were with a trio of Nemoidans, and with some bug-thing I've never heard of before from beyond the outer rim." He sipped his wine. "Nothing against nonhumans, mind. But these four seemed to think that rubbing down with cologne was a substitute for hygiene."

He flashed her a quick smile. "Or was that the 'honesty' thing again?"

She scooted a bit closer, whispering in his ear. "Up for another job? I have a meeting with my contact tomorrow. It's a big one, and I know I am going to need the back up again." Her cheek brushed against his, and for a moment, she wasn't sure whether she was playing a role or not. Somehow the seductress and professional killer were one and the same.

His voice trailed away as she leaned close, whispering in his ear. The fact that her question was work-related did nothing to alter the way her voice sent a shiver down his spine. She smelled like soap, and like exotic flowers and danger, and that scent lingered as she moved away. "Yeah," he said, sipping at his drink again, this time trying to cover the flush in his skin. "Yeah, I'm in. Gives me an excuse to hang around."

Just then, the droid arrived with two steaming platters. She sat back as their food was brought up, filling the air with a divine scent that made Kaydia's stomach grumble. She took several bites, moaning into the delectable food. "Wow, this is amazing, I can't believe I've been on Mustafar this long, and never came here before."

Quinn, for his part, added a savory bluish sauce to his plate of noodles and vegetables and seafood, then scooped up a mouthful with the traditional tongs. "Yeah. One of the nice things about my lifestyle is the opportunity to try new cuisine." He speared a toklroot and sucked the creamy flesh from the husk. "You can only eat milrats so long before you want to kill yourself."

His eyes lingered on her as they ate, just as they had the day before. She knew this because she kept looking up to steal glances at him. When was the last time she felt his giddy, nervous energy? The excitement of new possibilities. The concern in the back of her mind that every second together brought them closer to the moment in which they had to part, and her own desire to savor the moments together before then.

And perhaps Quinn had read her mind or had broadcasted that desire unconsciously through the force. "So... at the risk of getting all honest again, you in a hurry to get back? Because I know a little hole in the wall bar with an amazing house band. Might be nice to get a couple of drinks and relax a little."

"No, hurry at all. I have no obligations until..." She checked her communicator, "Tomorrow at 1100 hundred, local time." And now here she was, risking being honest. That she had no intention of leaving his side if he didn't make her. That the thought of spending the night alone depressed her and made her hunger for Inertia. That this life didn't leave much room for friends or dating.

Was this a date, now? They were seeking out excuses to spend time together, beyond the scope of their professions. Maybe he was just being nice, no need to read into it any more than that. Or maybe he was just trying to get into her bed. Well, she didn't mind _those_ intentions.

She finished her food with one last pleased sigh as Malri came back to check on them. "Good I hope?" the Snivvan.

"Absolutely divine. You will see my face around here much more often. Even if things with Quinn here go sour and it gets awkward." She exulted, nudging Quinn as she teased him. She drained her glass as the proprietor laughed.

"Can I tempt you with dessert? We make a wicked Marsh-Root Soufflé." He advertised. She shot quinn and intrigued look.

"What do you say? Share it with me?" She pleaded, fingers tracing his knuckles as she bit her bottom lip.

"I'd just about have to share it with you!" Quinn laughed. Did she imagine the flush on his cheeks, as he turned towards her again? "The serving sizes here are faintly ridiculous!"

"I like to think of it as a serving size that encourages togetherness," the Snivian countered. "And besides, it's hardly my fault that humans have no metabolism to speak of."

"Right. I bow to your superior evolutionary adaptations. Bring it out." With a little bow the Snivian departed. Kaydia chuckled alongside him, amused byt he banter. She might have worn the Shadi skin, but she knew this was her, the real her, coming through now. It wasn't an act to gain some leverage or accomplish her task. That she wanted this, for herself. For her own happiness.

Happiness. What a strange concept. Was someone like her even allowed to be happy? After everything she had done? Perhaps she could be given a brief respite to the loneliness and hatred that consumed her. Revenge could take a night off, couldn't it?

"I've got to ask," he began, turning his attention back to her, "what brought you to Mustafar? Business?"

She put on a smile and a mask once more as he broached the subject, "Something like that." She wished she had gotten a refill on her glass of wine now. Something to occupy her hand and take attention away from her. Suddenly those eyes on her felt like they were peering into the depths of her soul, discovering the dark and distasteful secret that made her who she was today. Scarlet, Black Sun assassin. "Sometimes life takes you in strange directions," She added, unhelpfully. As if she were casually discussing the decision to open a business, or take on a new profession. As if she weren't talking about killing people for money and drugs.

"Oh, life certainly takes you in strange directions," Quinn agreed. "I, for example, was raised on Ando Prime by the Order of Dai Bendu. One of the few humans ever admitted to their rule, and only because I was taken in as an orphan. They raised me to be a quiet, peaceful aesthetic and scholar." He grinned. "Look how well that turned out."

"How about you?" Scarlet asked, throwing a question back at him. "I'd think my reputation would keep people far away, and yet here you are, looking for excuses to stick around. Are you always this attracted to danger, or do I in particular just make you stupid?"

"Well, I've always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie," he confessed. "And I'm terribly careful in my day job, so I have to find my danger somewhere." This time, he was the one to brush her hand with his fingers. "And you've made me stupid since the first time I saw you..."

Blue. His eyes were definitely blue. And what a shade of blue, as he spoke of her making him stupid. It had been quite a while since someone had done the same to her. She felt the electricity in his fingertips as they grazed her skin. She was often touched in her job, and not always welcome. It came with the territory, naturally, and she always put up a delighted face no matter how disgusted she felt. But when was the last time she wanted to be touched, and truly relished in it?

The droid arrived at that moment, bearing a light soufflé topped with something resembling purple meringue. "Your marsh-root soufflé," it announced, setting it on the table. "May I be of any further assistance at this moment?"

"Yes," Quinn said. "You can go away."

The droid interrupting their private moment was most unwelcome, even as it brought over the dessert they had ordered. As sweet as the soufflé smelled, it paled in comparison to rediscovering feelings she long thought dead. She couldn't agree more as he told it to go away, neither one bothering to look away from the other. Never the less, she dipped the spoon into their dessert and brought it up to his lips. She watched with interest as he opened his mouth for the spoon, and wrapped his lips around it as she pulled it back. His pink tongue darted out to collect the purple crème that stuck to his lips. She couldn't help but wonder if he was a good kisser.

"You remind me of this boy I used to know," She confessed between bites, anauthentic smile and feeling of happiness coming over her features. "Back before I was in this life."

"I'm gonna hope," Quinn interjected, "that this is a good thing."

He was rather handsome, and a few years older than me. Oh, I had such a crush on him," She couldn't stifle the nostalgic laugh as she thought of him. "What was his name...?" She took a couple long bites as she tried to remember him. "That's right, Kazak, the Iridonian. Hmm..."She nodded sincerely, as memories flooded back,"He was my first kiss. We were in the same, ummm...training program." She tried explaining away, hoping he didn't press for more details. But why would he?

"An Iridonian, hm?" He thought about that for a moment. "Not quite my thing, but they do have a reputation for being constantly horny..." After a moment with that joke hanging in the air, he shook his head ruefully. "Sorry. My sense of humor is woefully underdeveloped."

"Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about all that, huh?" She gave Quinn an apologetic look. "See, this is why I have that no honestly policy."

"Nah, didn't bother me." He shrugged a little, then cut the last bite in half with his fork and offered it to her. "I just hope it turned out better than my first kiss. A pretty brunette who attended the same school I did, and who actually went into the same line of work. It... ah... didn't work out so well." Eyes that had gone a little distant and misty at the memory turned hard, and his jaw set. "I thought we were in love. Right up until the moment when she framed me for murder and then tried to kill me to cover up her involvement in a drug smuggling ring."

Kaydia accepted the last bite as he offered it, rather enjoying how the evening was shaping up. Certainly not ready for it to end, as their meal concluded. As she savored that last bite, he spoke of his first kiss, and his first love, obvious hurt in his expression as he recalled it. He forced a laugh. She took his hand once more, in a way she hoped was comforting, but truthfully, she didn't have much experience in offering comfort. He laughed, a fake laugh she was well familiar with.

"It's the kind of thing that kills a relationship, y'know?"

"What, you mean you two couldn't work things out after that?" She teased, trying to lighten the mood. Truthfully, she felt a bit of jealousy at his story. Not at the mention of the pretty brunette who broke his heart, but at the admission that they were in love, or at least Quinn thought they were. She wondered what that was like, and lamented that fact that's she would likely never know. She wondered if it were ironic that the prohibition against love was the only part of the Jedi Code she had managed to uphold, even now.

"Well, I was going to make you pay for dinner, after that joke about Iridonians, but not after hearing how your first love broke your heart with lies and attempted homicide. So dinner is on me."

She paid for their meal and hooked her arm in with his, as they walked out. It looked the same as yesterday, as they moved through the Velvet Spire together, but it was different today. It wasn't an act put on for onlookers, but a desire for closeness, the culmination of connecting with him over dinner." You can get the drinks. Tell me more about this bar you are taking me to."

"Tell you?" Quinn grinned. "Well, it's a little place called Munden's. Usually a quiet sort of place, out near the edge of the environmental dome. Not the best part of town, but the owner - a semi-retired merc named John Gaunt - ensures that the local toughs play nice." A pause. "The ones that the Black Sun doesn't keep in line, that is." He opened the speeder door for her, then walked around and climbed into the driver's seat. "I think you'll like it," he said with a smile. "There's far more to it than meets the eye." The engine purred to life, and he pulled out into traffic.

*****

The bar was, as advertised, in a run-down part of the city. One lit with a ruddy glow from the perennial lava fields beyond the environmental dome, and strewn with the signs of lax police attention and struggling humanity. Quinn didn't seem particularly concerned as he parked the expensive speeder in front of the squat stone and concrete building with the simple sign "Munden's", however. He merely opened the door for Scarlet and locked the speeder after she stepped out. Offering her his arm, he escorted her inside.

The first thing to notice about the bar was the pulsing beat of the music, a slow-tempo electronic thing backed by synthesizers and the occasional horn. That was the first thing, because the interior lighting was dim. The second thing to notice was the mass of different xenosentients that patronized the bar. Humans and near-humans, Togruta and Ithorians and Zabrak and Kel-Dor and Bith and others too exotic to recognize easily, all mixed easily or hunkered at their tables and nursed their drinks. There was a dance floor, and a few dozen people circulated on it, but most of the action appeared to be drinking. Everyone glanced up at them, glanced a second time at 'Shadi' -she was worth glancing at, after all- and returned to their business.

Kaydia liked the bar. It had a rugged warmth about it, that she found she rather preferred to the sterile swank of the nightclubs she usually visited, when she spent her evenings riding out the high of Inertia. Couldn't conceivably be called _glamorous_ , but authentic, in a way that made it seem superior to the high end clubs. It wasn't a place where wealthy brats got stoned out of their minds until the crowd was filled with blank faces and empty expressions. It was far removed from the life she lived as Shadi, and she rather liked that. It made her feel more like Kaydia, even if she still wore Shadi's mask.

Still, she knew she was out of place here, like this. She knew from the eyes that drank her in and stole second glances. She probably should have slipped out of the Shadi persona before they got here. Just like he had slipped out of his alias before they had dinner. Eh, whatever, it was fine. As long as he went home with _Kaydia_ , at the end of the night...

"Hey, Quinn," waved the bartender, a lean brunette man wearing a button-down shirt and black vest. "And who's this?"

"Hey Gordon," Quinn answered. "This is Shadi, an... associate of mine."

"A pleasure, ma'am," Gordon responded, then looked back at Quinn. "Your regular?"

"Nah. I'm trying to impress her with my good taste. How about..."

"A little late for that," Gordon grinned. "She seems to have met you already."

"Ha. Ha." Quinn answered, deadpan. "Spiced pulkay, and a shot of Corin whiskey. And whatever she's having."

"I'll have the same," She offered, as Quinn put in his drink order. They were served quickly enough. It seeming being on the arm of a regular had its perks. She clinked her shot glass with his, and downed her whiskey, chasing it with a long drink of the pulkay. She could feel the alcohol working its way through her system already, building towards a nice buzz that left her lightly flushed. The music hammered through her, to the point she was feeling it as much as she was hearing it. By the time she was done with her drink, the urge to dance was too powerful to resist.

"Come on, dance with me," She demanded, feeling her head sway side to side just outside her control. Her hands took his, pulling him to the dancefloor. Almost immediately she lost herself in the music vibrating into her ear and out her fingertips, and his scent, mostly clean with just enough perspiration to remind her that he was a man. Her eyes closed as her body moved, the throbbing of the bass guiding her motions.

*****

"Dance?" Quinn almost yelped, just barely managing to set his glass down as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the floor. "Oh, come on! I'm terrible at dancing!" But it seemed that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Instead she led him - dragged him, some might say - out into the midst of the other dancers. On the floor, away from the sonic baffles of the rest of the bar, the music pounded and thumped, vibrating his very bones. And despite his protests, he began to move with the music. Hells, with the vibrations of the bass, it would have almost been harder to not move.

At first his movements were awkward. Jerky. Self-conscious. A sort of nervous shuffle of the feet and twitch of the arms, soon followed by flexing of the knees and a little pop in the hips. But he quickly realized that nobody was really watching him. The dancers were either like Scarlet - eyes closed and focusing on the music - or they were focused on their partners. He chose the second approach, because Scarlet and the 'dress' she wore were utterly distracting. And soon his nervousness faded, revealing him to be... well... still not a great dancer. But good enough.

By the time of the second song, he'd caught her hand and pulled her close, moving into a half-remembered four-step that he vaguely remembered being taught as a teen. His training hadn't focused on such matters, of course, but he'd been exposed to the basics of how to move in different levels of society. And part of that training had been dancing. Muscle memory kicked in soon enough, and lost in the feel of her body moving with him, he relaxed even further. Once, without even thinking about it, he spun her out and drew her back, drawing a deep breath of arousal and enjoyment as she pressed against his chest.

With the third song, the band changed styles, going for smooth and slow and instrumental, clearly showing off their skills. By Quinn's shyness about dancing had evaporated and he held Scarlet close, swaying and moving against her in time with the music. Occasionally they would part, spinning and coming together in a swirl of limbs. when it ended he found himself holding her in his arms, staring down into her eyes. Without stopping to think, lost in the moment, he pulled her closer and lowered his face to hers. Electricity and warmth flooded his nerves as their lips met, and for a long moment, he was aware only of her warmth and her taste.

****

Clearly, he wasn't as comfortable on the dancefloor as she was. It was cute, his slight awkwardness, especially since he had come off so slick and confident in every other regard. It was long before he relaxed, moving alongside her with something approaching skill. Then it was fun and exhilarating, as he twirled her and pulled her close. She was dizzy and drunk ondelight and more than a little tipsy and it felt a hell of a lot better than Inertia.

Then the music changed and he was holding her close, and his hands were around and her hands were around his neck. His chest was hard against hers, and she could feel the strength is his arms and she couldn't help but wonder how he might look underneath it all. Perhaps leaning over her as the sweat rolled down his muscles and he drove into her core...

Suddenly his lips were on hers and they tasted of whiskey and longing as her tongue slid over and sought out his. Her breasts pressed into his pecs as her arms tightened over his neck and his tightened around her waist. She wasn't sure if she was sighing and moaning into the kiss or he was, or they both were, but she didn't care. She didn't want to stop, or pull away or even breathe, as one of her hand moved up behind his head, tangling in his hair. As their kiss grew hotter and more demanding,she could feel a flutter in her stomach, building towards a throbbing ache that made her knees weak.

For a moment or so longer, they were still pressed against each other, foreheads and noses touching, hot breath wafting over each other's face. She wanted another kiss, and another, cuddled in his arms as her hands explored his body. She wanted to taste more of him and to feel his lips tasting her. She smiled up at him, licking her lips.

"Should we get another round?" She asked coyly, pulling him close again, until her lips grazed his ears, "Or should we get go back to my place?"

It suddenly seemed incredibly warm in Munden's.

"Ah..." he answered, sliding an arm down her back and resting a hand on her rear. "No reason why we can't do both." He smiled at her, hunger in his eyes. "I enjoy the taste of pulkay, and I can only imagine you'd add extra spice to the flavor." His hand squeezed a little, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin and the leather of the dress. Then, shifting his arm so it was around her waist, he led her back off the dance floor. "Can you add the drinks to my tab?" he called as he passed the bar.

"Yeah, under the circumstances," Gordon agreed, waving cheerily. "Have a pleasant night."

The air outside was warm and dry, a typical night under the environmental dome on Mustafar. But it seemed cool next to the fire in his blood and the heat of the woman next to him. Quinn made it as far as the speeder before he pushed her up against the metal, hands exploring the contrasting feel of flesh and leather as he pressed into her, his lips hungry on hers and his tongue filling her mouth. He moaned at the feel of smooth thighs against his legs, of soft breasts against his chest, of supple muscle under his fingers. "I want you," he growled. "I think I've wanted you since the first night we met."

"Well, you did save my ass tonight," She moaned as his hand groped at that very ass, "I'd say you earned yourself a piece of it." She pulled him into the kiss this time, hands roaming his back, feeling his trapezius muscles flexing under the suit and his skin. It was a deep, hard kiss, that left her gasping breathing hard once they pulled away again. "Come on, before we get a crowd gathered around, watching."

 


	6. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaydia makes a confession to Quinn, before taking him to bed.

Quinn hadn't really thought about what sort of living space Scarlet might have. Oh, he'd seen what _Shadi_ had, but that was as much a mask as the blonde wig and the vapid expression. _Scarlet_ was still something of an enigma - although one that he'd enjoy unraveling - and the small building in a nice but nondescript part of the city was a surprising choice. Not the kind of place he'd have guessed a successful and well-paid assassin would take. Certainly not what the holovids would have you believe.But then, according to the holovids, _his_ living quarters should be ankle deep in liquor and whores.

The space was... spartan. It wasn't a large place, but it had crisp lines and an open floor plan. Much like her room at the Velvet Spire, it was devoid of personal touch, just distressed concrete walls and pale wood flooring. A wraparound couch took up most of the living area, with the foot of a large bed peeked out from the other side of the wall separating the room. Projected on the windows was lakeside scenery that one might find on a temperate, mid rim planet. The kind of living quarters maintained by someone accustomed to minimal personal possessions. The kind of place _he'd_ grown up in, and that he was comfortable with. Which raised all sorts of interesting questions. If he searched, would he find a small satchel with _her_ two or three most prized possessions, and a weapon, and a few essential tools? The sort of thing that he maintained, everywhere he went?

Who _was_   Scarlet, he wondered. Who had she been, once upon a time? Clearly, he'd have to find out.

"So, what did you want to drink?" She called form the small, functional kitchen, examining her fridge.

"Dunno," he called back, turning to watch her pull a stocky purple bottle out of the fridge. "What do you have?"

"I have some spiced pulkay, a bottle of white wine, and Corellian brandy."

He pursed his lips in thought as she placed the bottle on the counter and headed towards a door. "Some water, actually. And then some of the pulkay," he decided. "Rehydrate a little, before I get back to drinking." A quick grin. "Helps with the hangover." He found the glasses and poured both of them two fingers of pulkay and himself a full pint of water. The water went down twice before he was even ready to consider the liquor once more. By then, Scarlet had emerged from the bathroom.

She was _magnificent_. Nothing about Shadi was unappealing, of course. And he'd seen her without her wig or contacts just last night. But her fiery hair was a wild mane of tangled curls, and her eyes glittered like emeralds, and her stance and walk had changed. Shadi strutted, displaying herself as a professional advertisement. But Scarlet prowled, a sleek and dangerous jungle beast. He watched her, desire and admiration frankly displayed in his expression, and then slid a glass over to her. "Comfortable?"

"I am. You could probably stand to be a little more comfortable, though, couldn't you?" She slinked over to him running finders over the hem of his jacket before hooking her thumbs on the inside, pulling it off his shoulders and hanging it up in the discrete closet off to the side of the bathroom. Her eyes traced the firm lines of his figure, not hiding her appreciation as her glance made its way back up to his face. "Yes, much better," she declared,  her fingers brushing his as she accepted a glass. "So, how many more drinks do you think it's going to take to get you out of the rest of that suit?"

Quinn sipped his drink and made a show of contemplating the question. "About twice as many as it'll take to get you out of that dress," he decided, letting his eyes trace the collection of panels and straps that made up her outfit. "Alcohol lowers inhibitions, after all. And since I'm wearing more clothes it'll take more effort to lower mine..."

He swirled the pulkay in his glass, contemplating. "Now, as a gentleman, I simply can't allow myself to take advantage of you and the clear fact that it'll take less effort to get you naked. So..." he took a drink. "I'll need to get started first. That was one." Another swallow. "Two. And now, your turn..."

He took a drink, holding it in his mouth as he slapped the glass down on the counter and pulled her close. His lips were peppery from the spiced liquor, and the sharp taste of the alcohol accompanied his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. He pressed her back against the counter as he let the drink flow into her mouth and dribble down her chin as he kissed her. His hands, hard and callused from years of fighting, were rough on her skin as he explored her shape, but his tongue was soft on chin and throat as he lapped errant rivulets of pulkay from her skin.

"Almost enough," he murmured, voice husky with desire. Pressing his body against her, licking his lips at the feel of her curves against him, he groped blindly for his glass. Finding it, he raised it to his lips and drank. "One," he said, letting her taste the peppery heat as he kissed her. "Two," he declared, sloshing the glass and eying it critically.

He brought it to her lips, his cheek against hers as he did. "Your turn," he murmured, tipping it. The liquid splashed out, coating her mouth and chin, running down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. "How clumsy of me," he declared insincerely, a wicked glint in his eye. "Here, let me..."

Lips traced her chin and down her throat, and he moaned against her flesh as he savored her flavor mixed with that of the pulkay. Pressing her back further, arching her back, he worked down to her collarbone. Then his teeth scraped gently over the swell exposed cleavage, and his tongue followed the path of a rivulet of liquor.

Then he grinned up at her. "Well, hell," he laughed, examining a tiny damp spot on his shirt. "Guess I'll have to take it off..." He peeled the shirt away and tossed it aside, revealing lean muscles and a few scars, a testament to the life he'd led. Unexpectedly, his right pectoral, shoulder, and upper arm were covered with a single elaborate tattoo. An abstract thing of alien design, all swirls and arcs picked out crimson and sapphire with black highlights. It rippled and seemed to shimmer as he picked up his glass and refilled it. "Care to wager on who'll be naked first?"

"Ah, wager. Yes, let's do that." She grinned up at him mischievously. "Let's see...the first person naked gets to call the shots. Sound good?" Her fingers wrapped around the bottle of pulkay and brought it over his lips.

"So, let's take a drink," she announced, bringing the bottle up to his lips, with the same care he did, letting the alcohol pool in his mouth and drip down his chin and chest. Quinn had enjoyed his version of "let's take a drink". But he found he enjoyed Scarlet's version just as much - if not more. The alcoholic pulkay was cool on his skin and her tongue was hot and the contrast made him shiver with delight.

As her mouth found his once more, she stuck out her tongue to meet his outside their mouths, and poured more liquor over their outstretched tongues, clumsily splattering their mouths and lips. Teasing turned into an alcohol-soaked kiss, pulkay trickling down both of their bodies now.

 Her spicy kiss, and the feel of her liquor-slippery body against him as she did her best to shrug out of her dress while pressing against him made his need for her consume him. He shoved her back against the bar, then, pinning her in place with the weight of his body. His hands were between them, fumbling with belt and fastenings as he shimmied and ground and finally kicked his boots and pants away. The boxers he wore were loose but they did little to disguise the extent of his desire. He grinned at her, kissing her deeply as alcohol-scented fingers fisted in her hair. "What happens," he asked, voice husky as his desire pressed into her bare thigh, "if we both lose?"

"If we are both naked, at the same time?" Her fingers slipping between his boxer and skin and her alcohol-scented breath wafted hot across his face. "In that case, I think we both win."

"Bedding the infamous Scarlet? Yeah, I call that a win." Instead of the excitement and ecstasy, he hoped to see in her eyes, they flashed with hurt. Shit, what had he said wrong? For a moment anxiety washed over him. Had he pushed things too far? Had he misread the signals? Was he about to find out what it looked like when a high-caliber assassin took offense?

"Don't call me Scarlet," she demanded, pushing him back until he fell unto the couch. The aggression in that act flavored his arousal with a hint of danger.

"What can I call you, then?" he asked, pulling her closer by her wrists. Soft, bare thighs slid over his lap, and his hands rested on her hips. Silken undergarments whispered along his skin as she drew closer, cheek pressed to cheek.

"Kaydia," she whispered, breath hot in his ear. The name was familiar, somehow. Had he known a Kaydia before? But it was difficult to think. Difficult to do anything but focus on the half-naked woman atop him.

"Kaydia then," he agreed, not missing the way she shuddered. Another clue, one step closer to unlocking her mysteries. Mysteries that lay spread before him now, inviting him to unravel her secrets.

*****

Hours passed, the heat between them becoming sweat upon their skin. The sun would rise soon and exhaustion was setting in. "Still breathing? Or do I have to add you to my list of casualties?" she teased,  cuddling up against his chest.

"Yes," he responded, holding her closer and grinning stupidly. He felt like he should say something more, but wasn't sure what. And he didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Did you want to stay the rest of the night? Plenty of room in my bed," she offered. Or tempted.

"Yeah." He smiled. "I'd like that." Shakily, he stood up. Then he scooped her up, enjoying her small sound of surprise as he took her in his arms and made his careful way to the low, large bed in the room. It took all his willpower to lay her down gently rather than drop her --he really was quite exhausted-- but his reward was to crawl in after her and snuggle in against her, enjoying her warmth and softness and their mingled scents. "G'night, Kaydia," he murmured through a jaw-cracking yawn before kissing her gently. "I..."

Whatever he was going to say was lost, however, as he yawned again. And then his eyes closed , and within moments he was fast asleep.

 


	7. The Next Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaydia and Quinn take on the next job after growing even closer.

_In Kaydia's dreams, she relived their encounter, with Quinn pulling her into a passionate kiss as she wore the Shadi mask. His hand brushed through her hair until the blonde wig slipped to the floor. She gave into him as his hands roamed her body, and peeled off the layers of clothing. It was exciting and terrifying to be so vulnerable before him but she didn't dare try to stop him or slow him down. Dress pooled around her ankles, bra slipped off and her panties slid down._

_Pulling away from the kiss, Quinn looked upon her reveal form, but somehow she found she wasn't nude before him. Instead, she wore her Padawan robes and the insecurities of a seventeen-year-old girl. It felt far more exposed than being naked before him. And the Quinn that looked back at her was a younger version of himself, and she had the strangest feeling that she was_ remembering _what he looked like a decade ago, instead of merely imagining it._

The dream brought up anxieties that Kaydia couldn't easily push down, so she found herself waking before Quinn.  He looked just as good the morning after, while she was sober and the morning light illuminated his features. And the tattoo was even more brilliant now, and it was rather difficult to resist the temptation to touch it once more. But he rocked her world last night and deserved whatever rest he could carve out for himself. So she left him alone , turning her thoughts towards the job at hand.

Before long Kaydia had transformed herself into Lorsha, a woman who seemed cloned a thousand times over to perform the invisible work that kept the galaxy moving smoothly. The secretary who answered phones and maintained schedules, the restaurant hostess who oversaw tables and wait-staff rosters, the personal assistant who arranged every aspect of her employer's day. And In her case, she was that valet that was always around precisely when she was needed, whether she was called ahead of time or not. Donning a short black wing in the style of an impeccably sharp bob, and a simple streamlined black leather outfit that only hinted at her sensuality, the transformation was nearly complete.

Out of all her personas, Kaydia found she liked being Lorsha the best. She appreciated the invisibility it afforded her, as opposed to the attention that Shadi was designed to attract. She was already eating breakfast in her mask as Quinn woke up. "Good morning. Help yourself to breakfast, it's most dehydrated foodstuffs, unfortunately. I put your clothes through the refresher, so they should be ready pretty soon. Unless you want me to drop you off at your place for a change. Otherwise, I thought you can join me for the meeting with my contact. It would save me the trouble of relaying all this information to you a second time."

"No, yeah. That sounds good." He yawned a jaw-cracking yawn. "Let me just get cleaned up, first. And then I'll eat and we can go meet your contact." With that, he threw the covers off and headed towards the bathroom.  

Watching the naked Quinn stride towards the bathroom made Kaydia wish she wasn't already dressed and ready for the day. And the thought of him in the shower, alone, with water rolling down his washboard abs distracted her from her meal. Maybe next time they would have to get in together. 

Next time. Would there be a next time? The fear that it might not happen again briefly seized her as she picked at her food. It wouldn't be the first one night stand she'd had, but it might have been the first she'd hope to repeat. Could they...date? It wasn't impossible, was it? They got along well, and were obviously quite attracted to each other. It might not work out in the long run, but they could enjoy the ride while it lasted, couldn't they?

He dressed quickly, opting to leave boots and jacket for when they left but was strapping on the shoulder rig that carried his blaster and lightsaber as he joined Kaydia at the breakfast table. She smiled at him as he joined her at the table, unfortunately, dressed. Still there was a job to do, and as she discovered last night, tearing each other's clothing off was half the fun.

"If we have time," he said, taking a seat and spooning reconstituted hash onto a plate, "I'd like to swing past Munden's first. I should return that borrowed speeder. But it's not urgent."

"Should be fine. I have to pick up mine anyways, so we can switch them off. " She replied before finishing her coffee.

He ate a few bites, then smiled at her from across the table. After a moment, he reached out and rested his hand on hers. "And... after last night.." He hesitated. "My name - my real name - is Quentin. Quentin Hall. I just, well, haven't used it in... in a while. I just..." He hesitated again. "I wanted you to know it."

 For a moment, memories from her dream flooded back, suddenly feeling relevant in a way she couldn't quite place. Still, the revelation of his real name made her blush, somehow finding the admission far more intimate than what they had done last night. She smiled warmly as she met his eyes and couldn't resist placing a quick, moist kiss on his lips. Maybe they were dating.

 

"Looks like we will have to do this again, so I can scream out the right name, this time."

He kissed her back. "You can try," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "But next time, I'm going to try to leave you unable to speak..."

***

Quentin found himself brooding, as he returned the borrowed speeder. What was he doing? He'd never broken cover like this before, never told anyone his real name before. And then, after a single night's fucking, he had risked everything!

Only... it wasn't just a simple case of getting laid, was it? He ran his fingers through his hair, and stared out the window. He liked her. Maybe he was even falling in love with her - something that felt ridiculous, since it had been less than a week since they'd met. But even now, he was trying to figure out how to persuade her to come with him when he was finished. She was skilled, she was good in a fight (and in bed), she was fun to talk to, and she was Force-sensitive. He'd recognized the empathic feedback once he'd thought about it, even if she hadn't. It was why they'd been so good together --each had sensed what the other wanted.

Force sensitive.

Damnit, he was going to have to consult the Archives. The odds were astronomical, but was it possible he'd stumbled across that lost padawan after all these years?

***

Soon they were off,  returning his borrowed speeder and retrieved her own. A top of the line, model year new transport that was as sleek and efficient as her mask. Quentin was seated up front, alongside her as she parked and waited for her contact, Linora.

The slender brunette entered the speeder without hesitation, though she did stiffen when she noticed a third person in the speeder, a man she was not expecting.

"This is Quinn Hale. He performed quite well on the last job and agreed to another one," Kaydia introduced, deciding to keep his real name to herself for a bit longer. It felt like a present he had given her, and even now she wanted to cherish that. For a moment at least, before pulling out to drive in the predetermined route, which in reality was just an excuse for her and Linora to meet up. Linora nodded at the man, only seeing the back of his head and half of his face. Familiar, somehow.

"Tuzza Drezixis your target this time around," She said simply, knowing that his prominence wouldn't be lost on Kaydia. The regional Vigo, and the man who had authorized and overseen her conditioning. The one who had given her the command to kill Jedi master Bry-Ta. Linora knew this would be a satisfying kill for her, if not an easy one. "He is familiar with all your current persona's, so you are going to need a solid plan to strike him. Like I said last night, I can't know anything until you hit him, and all I can give you at the moment is his schedule for the next month. I'll be paying twice your rate for this job." She sent the files over to their data pads.

"Any questions?"

Quentin glanced over the data pad, and shook his head. Then he looked sideways at Kaydia, checking if she had any.

The speeder was on autopilot as Kaydia reviewed the information on her data pad. Tuzza Drezix. She started at the name and face as some of her worst memories flooded her mind. She forced the Lorsha mask, wearing a calm, in control expression as sorrow and rage coursed through her veins. Suddenly she needed a hit of Inertia. Something to drown the emotions boiling under her skin. Even Quentin's presence, and the thought of spending another night wrapped around him couldn't ease the tension that tugged at her very being.

It was the culmination of everything she wanted since she returned to this life. To strike at the man who did this to her, and repay the years of pain he had put her through. She knew she needed to concentrate, to come at this from a position of collected composure, but it was difficult to push down everything that had been done to her, and everything she had done.

"No questions," she answered, finally, feeling both Quentin's and Linora's eyes on her. It was good, too, since she was nearing the endpoint of their trip. Linora got out without another word and Kaydia pulled the speeder out and drove a couple kilometers away. 

***

Quentin nearly shook with relief as Linora exited the speeder, half-expecting her to turn and cut him down through the hull. But she walked away without a look back, merging into the crowd and disappearing into a store. He sighed, then began systematically flexing and releasing each of his muscles in turn to release tension. It was difficult. He could sense the hatred and anger and fear in Kaydia's mind, roiling and churning like storm clouds even as she struggled for calm and tried to review the details of the job. Finally, she tossed her datapad down. "It's not going to be simple," she observed, leaning back in the driver seat. "How do you feel about playing the chauffeur again?"

"Well," he said, forcing a note of levity he didn't feel, "I think we've established that I don't mind driving..." It was a weak innuendo, but there it was. Turning his attention back to business, he picked up his own datapad and reviewed the notes once more. "Hmmm..." he finally muttered. "'Not going to be simple' is an understatement. So, we could abandon _discrete_."

He put his datapad down as well. "I've got a proton launcher at my ship, part of my collection of questionably-legal implements of mayhem. We could just track his movements, and blow his skimmer to hell from blocks away." He mimed aiming and firing a shoulder-mounted weapon. "Boom. Then we just need to send a small probe in to collect enough DNA to prove he was in the car."

Quentin's grin didn't falter in the teeth of her dour expression. "No? Well, I guess being hunted as Separatist terrorists _would_ put a crimp on our plans. So. Tell me about playing the chauffeur?"

***

The plan wasn't too bad. Quentin Would masquerade as Tuzza's chauffeur when he was headed towards the warehouse district to meet with some smugglers. Quentin would divert the Vigo to another warehouse, where Kaydia would be waiting to complete the hit. Kaydia wasn't terribly happy with the plan, but it was unlikely they were going to be able to come up with a better one. Tuzza was a made man, and wasn't ever going to be easy to kill. As it was, they would have to expect at least a couple bodyguards.

They needed to retrofit a speeder to interrupt lines of communication, scout out a warehouse location, get a read on who would be guarding Tuzza that day. He had a rotating list of eight men and two women who stood at his side, usually in pairs, but sometimes as many as four. Kaydia and Quentin had their work cut out for them.

 

 


	8. The Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job doesn't go as well as anticipated.

The plan was a terrible plan, but Quentin couldn't come up with a better one. So he let Kaydia begin scoping out the warehouse and pulling the strings to get him in place. For his own part, he tended to the modified skimmer. Which meant talking to Meryik Tann. The Zeltron loved a lot of things. Men. Women. Men _and_ women _together_. Gambling. Drinking. But the one thing he loved above all else was vehicles. And for all his flippant airs, he was a consummate professional. So when Quentin approached him, the only questions he asked were related to the specific requirements of the scrambler.  
  
Their first break came two days after the meeting with Linora.

  
***

"One of Zerrik An's boys, hey?" The speaker was a bulky near-human, with skin like leather and faceted orange eyes. He looked Quentin over.  
  
"Yep," Quentin drawled. He'd spent a little time modifying his appearance. Chemical tablets and ultraviolet treatments to darken his skin to the color of mahogany. Hormone injections to change the color of his eyes from blue-grey to brown. Inserts in his shoes to change his height and gait a little, and nose plugs and cheek pads to alter the contours of his face subtly. He's also shaved his head.  
  
The speaker glanced over the details on his datapad. "Hmmm... driver, mainly. And a little bodyguard work." A bark of laughter. "Didn't do Zerrik much good, did you?"  
  
Quentin shrugged. "Ain't my fault. An liked him a bit o' bein' choked out while he was gettin' laid." He snorted a little bitter laughter. "Always warned him he'd go a little far. Weren't much I could do, though. Not like he wanted an audience or nothin', not when he was having him a whore."  
  
"What happened?" the near-human asked, curious now.  
  
"You ain't heard?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Quentin made a show of looking around, then leaned in conspiratorially. "You didn't hear this from me, got it? But he, ah... he kinda burst a blood vessel. Seems the whore didn't even notice, until she was finished."  
  
"She didn't notice?"  
  
"Nope. Guess he wasn't as good as he thought."  
  
Both men laughed, and the nonhuman waved the datapad. "Yeah, well, Miss Sunfell says you check out. So you're hired. Boss needs a good driver." He offered Quentin a hand. "Name's Bronn Tallet. You'll be reporting to me, unless the boss gives you orders directly."  
  
Quentin shook the man's hand. "Lazlo Jamis. A pleasure."

***

It took nearly a week to put all the pieces in place. Quentin was in position to drive Tuzza to the location, and Kaydia had the warehouse set up to her benefit. They would be outnumbered, three to two, but Tuzza wouldn't be expecting his driver to be in on the plot to take him out. She would have one of his bodyguards dead before he knew what was up and Quentin could have the other dead in an instant.

Based on the intel Quentin sent her this morning, she reviewed who was guarding him today. Mythosha Phun, the cathar and Oongol Furukt, a trandoshan. Mythosha was an expert at close quarters combat and Oongol was a master marksman, a potent combination that covered Tuzza from any and all attacks.

Kaydia set up the warehouse with substantial cover in preparation for a firefight. Blasters weren't her preferred weapon, but she was decent. Besides, she wasn't sure she was ready for Quentin to know about her connection to the force and her past. She liked him, quite a bit, but it was hard to bring up the difficult memories. Maybe, once this job and part of her life were behind her, she could leave it behind and travel the galaxy with Quentin, and become a mercenary, like him. Partners, in business and maybe even something more.

***

Lazlo -Quentin- pulled the modified speeder into the warehouse right on time. "We're here, Mister Drezzix," he said over the intercom. The back of the limo was a separate compartment from the driver's seat.

"Good," the response came. "Kill the engine. We don't want anyone thinking we're in a hurry to get in and out."

Quentin powered the speeder down, letting it settle on its skids. Taking a deep breath to settle jangled nerves - he was always nervous at the start of an operation - he glanced upwards at where he knew Kaydia would be lurking, and nodded once. Then he opened the door. First to emerge was Oongol Furukt, long pistol in one hand, slitted eyes scanning the interior of the building. Mythosha Phun was next, moving with a feline grace as she seemed to focus on everything at once. "Now?" she purred, a question Quentin wasn't prepared for.

"Yes," Tuzza agreed, still sitting in the passenger compartment.

Quentin felt the surge of adrenaline in the Cathar's blood and felt her aggression suddenly directed at him. He had a fraction of a second for his nerves to scream _we've been made!_ before Kaydia's blaster bolts hammered into Oongol in rapid succession, putting him down before he could raise his pistol. Mythosha's attention flicked to the dead Trandoshan for that same fraction of a second, and Quentin acted. Faster than the Cathar could believe possible a small vibro-knife dropped from his sleeve into his hand, and the humming weapon slammed into her throat and severed her spine before she realized fully what happened. She hit the ground, living just long enough to disbelieve his speed.

"Shit!" Quentin called out as he tore open the limo door. "He's on to us!" And then he slammed the door shut as he saw the disruptor in Tuzza's hand, spinning and dropping before he could fire. The action saved his life but also saved the Vigo's as Kaydia's blaster bolts deflected from the armored body of the speeder. Hand pressed against the metal, he could feel the vibrations of Tuzza as he called urgently for backup.

Faster than it should have taken --assuming the jammer had worked-- a second skimmer arrived. He had time enough to see Kaydia coming from one direction, and the doors open from the other, and then something clattered and bumped across the fusion formed floor of the warehouse. Reflexively he covered his eyes with his arm, just managing to block the worst of the glare as the flashbang detonated. Three of the reinforcements cursed loudly, staggering blind from the grenade, and Kaydia gunned one of them down with a triple-burst from her blaster.

"Take him alive!" Tuzza screamed. "Both of them! I want to make an example of them!" In response, the guards that could see drew shockstaves and nervesticks, moving to encircle the lone knifeman their boss wanted. Quentin watched them come and tossed his vibroknife aside.

"Surrendering?" one of the guards laughed. "It won't..."

"Nope," Quentin answered, his words almost drowned out by the snap-hiss and hum of his igniting lightsaber. "Just evening the odds." He grinned. "But you boys can walk away now, if you want."

***

They might have just been doing their jobs, and might not have aimed to kill her outright, but Kaydia had no intention of sparing any of these men. She had killed dozens on Tuzza's word, so what were a few more dead bodies to her name? The men surrounded Quentin, snickering at the show of his lightsaber.

For a Zabrak with a shockstaff, it was his last act, as Kaydia hit him in the face with the heel of her palm, driving with enough force to push his nose into his brain. She tore the shock staff from his dying hands and stood with her back brushing against Quentin's. She struck at the nervestick that darted out to strike her, knocking it out of his hands. A follow-up roundhouse kick had him on the floor.

Tapping into the force, Kaydia connected with Quentin mentally, sensing his movements and adjusting her own to move complementary to his own. The two of them moved with a fluid grace, as if they had practiced together for years, instead of having met a little over a week ago. Between the two of them, they were offense and defense, creating openings for the other's strikes. Despite being the odds being against them, they laid waste to their remaining foes.

Tuzza moved behind the cover she had set up, pinning them down as he moved towards the skimmer parked outside. "We need to split up," Kaydia suggested, moving along one side of the warehouse, as Quentin made for the other side. With his lightsaber acting as a beacon, he drew Tuzza's fire, but he did fine, ducking and dodging behind cover to avoid blasts. She was within striking distance now; one last sprint would have him in her clutches.

Quentin came from the other side, wielding his lightsaber. Tuzza got off a couple shots, and Quentin had nowhere to hide this time. If he were a Jedi, he could have deflected the bolts away from himself, but a normal human couldn't move that fast. With a desperate cry, Kaydia force pushed him, slamming him against the wall just in time to avoid the blasts to his chest.

Tuzza turned just in time to see Kaydia's foot hook behind his ear. He drew a vibro-knife as he went down, stabbing wildly as Kaydia followed up her attack. She disarmed him, and, using his own knife, wielded by his own assassin, she opened his throat, green blood spilling out in quick spurts. He lived just long enough to recognize her.

It took a moment, but she began to realize that killing Tuzza did nothing. No relief from the years of shame and pain he inflicted upon her. Killing him didn't bring back Master Bry-Ta, or return her life to its original trajectory. It was...empty. Revenge couldn't give her peace in this life, but there was something else. Someone else, she thought, as she rushed to Quentin's side.

She let out a sigh of relief as Quentin began breathing normally again. She couldn't remember the last time she used a force push without intending to hurt her target, and it was possible that in trying to save him, she injured him.

"Are you okay?" Kaydia called as she rushed over to Quentin.

"Uuuh..." Quentin gasped. For an instant, his heart was in his throat as he saw the blood on her clothes, before he realized that it was green. "Haaaah...." he managed, drawing a deep breath. "Yuh... yeah." Time to play dumb for the moment, he decided. "What... what hit me?"

Kaydia opened her mouth but nothing came out. She still wasn't sure if she should open up to him, if she was ready to share that part of her life with someone else. And yet, at the same time, she wanted someone to confide in, and Quentin felt like he could be that person. Even more now, after everything that happened, and after they fight together as one. She hadn't even managed that level of connection with Master Bry-Ta, even after training with her for years.

"I'll tell, you, but not right now. Let's get out of here, get on our situation."

"And, more importantly, who the fuck set us up?"

The words stunned her. Objectively he was right; the timing of reinforcements was too perfect. Yet, the list of people who could have set them up was slim. Linora knew they were going to hit Tuzza, but that was because she had hired them. Hiring them to kill a man, only to betray them seemed a roundabout way to kill them. It didn't make much sense. Besides...

_I know what they did to you, Scarlet. I want to help you._

No, Linora wouldn't betray her. Linora was her only ally, well, until Quentin came along.

"Let's get out of here, back to my place," Kaydia offered, helping him to his feet, unable to resist taking his hand in her own.

 "Are you sure that's a good idea? We were set up, after all. Someone could be watching your place right now." He gestured around the warehouse. "I mean, sure. They probably didn't expect us to survive this. But still..."

She realized as he spoke that he was still holding her hand. Or was it that she was still holding his? Didn't matter. They'd just made an enemy of the Black Sun cartel; it was nice to have an ally in him.

"We could head for my place, instead," he suggested. "Well, my ship actually. I did rent a small place when I arrived, but that's likely to be watched. But... I don't think _The Scrapper_ would be." He grinned. "I rarely visit it, so it shouldn't have attracted attention."

Still holding Kaydia's hand, he headed for the back of the warehouse and her skimmer. "Regardless of where we go, we should get out of here. Lie low for a day or two and work out who set us up and why. And then do something about it."


	9. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out now.

Quentin remained silent for rest the trip, lost in his thoughts. When they arrived at the starport he led her through a warren of passages, avoiding the few concourses where passengers gathered to await transport. Finally, through windows that overlooked the exterior of the dome, a squat little ship could be seen. "The Scrapper," he declared.

It was a shabby, patchwork thing if indeterminant origin. Roughly shaped like a flattened cone, with a bulbous cockpit at the tip and turrets on the dorsal and ventral sides, it looked rather more comical than impressive.

The interior, though, belied that impression. It was a gleaming white, clean and well-maintained. The living and crew areas were compact and well-organized. "Here," he said, gesturing to a small bench that circled a table just big enough for two people to eat at. Two friendly people, that was.

Kaydia started, reaching for his hands across the table. "Quentin I...I am the one who hit you, back in the warehouse. When you were running for Tuzza. I didn't think you'd be able to dodge the blasts from the blaster pistol, so I pushed you." A pause and a sigh, "Through the force."

"I'm...I'm force-sensitive," She started, before sighing loudly. "No, it's more than that. Before I came here, to Mustafar, I was a padawan in the Jedi Order." Saying the words out loud was petrifying, and yet, relieving, finally unloading the burden she had carried for over a decade.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that, but you make me stupid sometimes. Stupid in a way no one else ever has. Besides, if someone is gunning for us, I might have to rely on those skills I learned then, to keep us safe. And things like that require an explanation." She was quiet for a while, before deciding just to let it all out now. She didn't want secrets between them.

"When I was seventeen, near the end of my training, my master and I were investigating a drug smuggler who may have had ties to the Jedi Order. We were captured by the Black Sun, and..." She stopped for a moment, as the memories came on like a torrent. "They experimented on us, injecting us with drugs until physical addiction overwhelmed our senses. Well, my senses. I became hooked on Inertia and they used my chemical dependence and previous Jedi training to turn me into an assassin for the Cartel.

"Eventually I broke away and got clean, and since then I have been trying to get my revenge on those who did this to me. Including Tuzza, who oversaw my conditioning, and commanded my hits. But...killing him didn't fix everything like I hoped it would. It didn't fix anything or make me feel better. And I don't suspect that killing those who set us up- whoever they are- will help us out much anyways.

"I haven't told you everything about me either, Kaydia," Quentin hesitated, then drew his lightsaber and laid it on the table. "This, for instance, is the casing of an AdascaTech weapon. But I gutted it the day I bought it, and rebuilt it." He rolled the machined aluminum hilt on the table. "I'm a Jedi, Kaydia. Believe it or not. And I can't leave. Not yet. I'm... here on business."

He sighed. "See, when I was nineteen, I went with my Master on my last mission before my trials. We were looking for a Jedi Master who'd gone missing in the Outer Rim. A Master, and her apprentice." He looked at her. "Master Bry-Ta, and her apprentice. I didn't quite recall her name, but she was a young woman - maybe a year or two younger than me - with the prettiest red hair I'd ever seen."

He sighed and looked away. "Every trail we followed went cold. We gutted the Black Sun, the Hutts, and the Krystinari organizations across three sectors and found no trace of them - Master or apprentice. We'd have kept going, only we couldn't track them any farther."

Turning back,  eyes like roiling waves looked back into hers and he took her hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "We failed you. I failed you."

His voice choked, and it took a minute to find it again. "I want to leave with you. Right now. Go... anywhere, as long as it's with you. But I've got a mission to finish."

"Because I'm after the most dangerous agent the Black Sun has, Kaydia. A fallen Jedi, named Linora Sunfell."

Kaydia sat across from Quentin, stunned by his admissions. It was a lot of information to take in, and she wasn't even sure where to start.

"You're a Jedi?" She asked finally. It made sense, why her subconscious was trying to tell her that she knew him, from somewhere. She must have seen him, at the temple while they were both there. Still, as much as It might have made sense, there were things about his confession that didn't.

"But, we...we had sex. Really passionate sex," Kaydia reminded him, feeling warm as she remembered it. Incredible, mind-blowing sex that made her think there might be something more between them. "I remember learning that 'There is no passion, only serenity. ' Have things changed that dramatically since I left the order?"

As she spoke the words, it hit her. There was no future between them. He couldn't be with her, as long as he was a Jedi. Pain gripped he heart. Maybe he never had any intention of being with her. "Did you just use me to get to Linora? Was all of this just an elaborate ploy to stay undercover?"

"So what, you get Linora and then what? Go back to the Order as if there was nothing between us? I thought...I thought we had...I don't know, _something_." Her eyes were wet with tears that threaten to flood her face. "Was I just fool?"

"No!" Quentin cried out, pulling her into an embrace. Then he chuckled ruefully. "I mean, I had looked for an angle to get close to Black Sun on Mustafar. And working as your back-up did let me do that. But..."

He kissed her forehead. "I wasn't using you. Hell, I didn't know you worked for Linora when I met you. And..." This time, he kissed her lips gently. "That night?After the hit? When we talked and laughed and danced and fucked? None of that was a lie. I wanted to be with you Kaydia, then and now. And tomorrow, and after that."

Chuckling, he pressed a finger to her lips as she started to speak. "And yes, I know the Code. It's artificial, Kaydia. A hedge, to keep young Jedi from straying too close to the Dark Side.Odan Ur penned it in the years before the Great Hyperspace War as a poetic description of being in harmony with the Force - it didn't become 'the Code' until after the Jedi reorganized in the wake of the Jedi Civil Wars."

He laughed. "And there I go, spouting trivia when it's not what I should be saying. Because what I should be saying is that, if I have to choose between you and the Code... I choose you."

She knew she probably should have asked more questions. Should have tried to have a serious conversation about the information he revealed to her. Should have been more concerned about what it all meant, in the long and short-term. But, she couldn't care. She couldn't care about anything, not after those three last words.

_I choose you._

They may as well have I love you for all she heard in them. Her arms went around his neck as she pulled him into her, her mouth capturing his in a kiss. A kiss that was not approved by the Jedi Council, but what she care? What did he care? He didn't he didn't care about that. He chose her. After nearly a decade of fearing that she killed the last person to give a damn about her, it felt good to know that she mattered to someone.

That knowledge filled her with a need, a need to feel him inside her. She was ripping off her own shirt as they kissed madly, the weight of their confessions and near death coming off with each article of clothing. She sought out the feel of his skin, soft finger roughly groping at his muscles.

"I need you," She gasped as she came up for air and pulled off his shirt. Her hands worked at his belt as their mouths came back together. "I need you now."

***

Pleasantly exhausted in the afterglow of passion, Quentin slumped against Kaydia's sweat-slick skin and she leaned into his shoulder.

"That was... mind-blowing. It's never been so...intense for me before.," She tried explaining, rubbing her cheek against his. "Perfect." Repeating what he had said earlier, while he filled her with bliss. "It was perfect."

"Perfect," he repeated as well, then kissed her gently. "You're perfect."

"What do we do now?" She asked, looking into his eyes once more, hoping she was able to conceal the struggle raging within her.

Quentin forced a smile. "Your thoughts betray you," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Kaydia felt the embarrassment wash over her. While there were some obvious benefits to being with a fellow force user, benefits she was still reeling from, there were downsides too. Like the loss of privacy over her own thoughts. Suddenly she was a self-conscious teenager again, always monitoring her own mind for fear of Master's Bry-Ta's quiet judgment. Quentin might have said it playfully, but it was still a reminder of the ways she had failed to live up to being a Jedi.

"And... I don't know. For the first time since... well, since she betrayed me, I don't know." He left who she was unsaid, but the meaning was clear.

"So Linora was the pretty brunette who broke your heart?" Kaydia pieced together. She watched as he also struggled with his duty versus what he wanted. Duty, loyalties, they just got in the way. Even more now, she just wanted to leave it all behind.

"I mean, I know what I want to do. And I know what I should do. What duty demands of me." He pulled her close, nestling her against his chest. "But... I don't want to ask you to make the decision you're faced with."

"Yeah, It's bad form to ask your new girlfriend to help you kill your old girlfriend." Kaydia teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Or I guess capture in this case? Do you really have to do this?"

He fell silent, his own thoughts roiling through the force with the conflict between duty and desire. "I'm a Jedi," he repeated, as if reminding himself. "And I know her better than any of the other Shadows. But...We could leave. For a while. Figure things out. Decide what we're going to do."

It was a compromise. A decent one too, and it was all Kaydia needed. Once they got away, and Quentin realized how good things were, when it was just him and her, he wouldn't want to come back. She kissed him before he could finish his thought, lingering for a bit before he pulled away. Face buried in the masculine musk of his shoulder, she sighed. "I just want to be with you, Quentin. I need you."

"Now, do you have a shower on board? Or some kind of fresher? Not that I mind smelling of you, but I am still covered in blood, and would rather not be."

"I do, actually." He gestured at a door behind him. "It's a dual-function model, even. Regular shower when I'm hooked up to an external supply and flip a switch, and fresher when I'm not."A light chuckle. "It's a bit of a splurge, but worth it."

He stumbled a little as he moved away, only now remembering that his pants were still around his ankles. After a moment of waffling, he kicked his boots across the room and stepped out of the trousers. Clad only in his socks, he pulled open a small closet.

"Here," he said, tossing her a towel, "and I can toss your clothes in the cleaner. Should get the blood stains out. I will prepare to lift off."

***

Dressed in her now cleaned clothes, Kaydia joined Quentin in the cockpit, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. "Given any thought to where we are heading?"

"Not really, no," he confessed,  flicking more controls. The ship began to vibrate, just a little, as he brought the reactors fully online and began to warm the engines. "Away from Mustafar for the moment." He shot her a grin and leaned over to kiss her back, before turning his attention back to the controls. "Someplace out of the way and relaxing, for a few days at least. So we can get a chance to decide what we're going to do next. Manaan, maybe. It's certainly out of the way." He chuckled.

"Manaan?" Kaydia repeated, trying to remember. It had been years since she left Mustafa hen she traveled the galaxy with her master. "The ocean planet? I had hoped for somewhere with a beach."

"If you are in the mood for something a little more civilized, we could head into the Colonies and the Tapani Sector, instead."

"Sounds good to me. As long as we are together," She admitted, settling down in the cockpit.

The vibrations of the engine stopped as he cut in the gravatics and retracted the landing claws. Slowly the _Scrapper_ began to lift from its docking cradle, following the launch vector he'd been given.

"So tell me more about the Jedi thing. I don't think I was ever cut out to be one. I always had a hard time with that 'No emotions, only peace' thing. "

"The 'Jedi thing'?" he echoed. "Hard to say, since I haven't been the _typical_ Jedi for... hmmm... a decade, now." He chuckled. "See, I'm dead. If you check my records in the Archive, you learn that I was killed by Lorin Shaal, former Jedi Master, when I uncovered his role in a drug running and blackmail scheme."

"Oh, you're dead too? Yet another thing we have in common!" Kaydia laughed.  
  
He adjusted course slightly as the _Scrapper_ plowed through Mustafar's exosphere. "And now I'm a Shadow, lurking on the edges of the Order and constantly watching for threats from the darkness. Whether within or without the Order." Another chuckle. "Sounds romantic, doesn't it? In practice, it means I get to clean up messes the Council would prefer never get made public." He flashed her a grin. "So I can tell you a lot about the Force, and the light and the darkness, and about the soul of a Jedi. But the lifestyle?" He shook his head.

"It's almost funny. The Order might have sent you after me, if not for the fact they think I am dead. That really would have put a damper on our budding relationship," Kaydia teased, reaching to run her fingers down his shoulder.

"It might have," he agreed, choosing to concentrate on the feel of her fingers on his chest and the teasing flavor of her emotions. "But... well, I'm a free agent. If I'm sent after someone, I'm expected to determine if they're a threat and then neutralize that threat." He grinned. "But _how_ is utterly at my discretion. I've managed to set four fallen Force-sensitives on a path of redemption, and there are two renegade Jedi on Dantooine that I decided to utterly ignore –because starting a farm and raising a family hardly constitute a threat."

His expression hardened a little. "Hell, I'd even bring Linora back to the Jedi path if she'd come. And she's tried to kill me three times."  
  
Kaydia didn't need to be force sensitive to see how Linora still weighed on him. It wasn't hard to imagine why, either. It wasn't so long ago that she and Linora had been tangled up like this. Before the jobs became more important.  But Quentin was different. He _chose_ her. So, with a giggle and a smirk, she trailed a finger down his face. "Oh, and how would you neutralize a threat like me?" she asked as he pulled her into his lap.

Suddenly laughing, he caught her fingers and pulled her into a kiss. His fingers combed through her red hair as his tongue parted her lips. "So the way I see it," he grinned, "you can hardly be a threat if I keep you exhausted from mind-blowing sex, right?"

"So, what you're saying is that the path of my salvation starts in your bed? Oh Quentin, save my soul. Save it all night long!"

Still chuckling, he checked the console. They were nearly half a million kilometers from Mustafar, and the navicomp was signaling ready. He keyed in the last few commands and engaged the hyperdrive. Stars seemed to leap towards them and then vanish, replaced by the chaotic, swirling tunnel of hyperspace.

Joking and flirting and kissing like this was enough to push down the darkness that crept at the edge of her mind, but it wasn't enough to push down the hunger that growled in her gut. "Got any food on board? Between fighting for my life and having mindblowing sex, I am famished."

"Of course I have food on board," he declared, answering her final question. "Mostly prepack, I'm afraid, since it stores better. But I've got a small supply of fresh foods as well, in case I feel like cooking." He rose and took her hand. "Come on. I'll show you."


	10. Captive

Quentin felt the subtle shudder in the ship's engines as it dropped out of hyperspace. Spooning up the last of his stew - reconstituted gundark broth, with flavored protein cubes and reconstituted vegetables - he shoved the bowl aside. "I should head up to the cockpit," he remarked, eyes lingering on Kaydia. "We need to check..."  
  
Kaydia's eyes net his, and she gave him a thoughtful, inviting smile. Then, wordless, she climbed into his lap and kissed him. As her tongue slipped between his lips, her hands explored his chest, playfully working at the buttons of his shirt. He responded by tugging at the hem of her blouse, pulling it up so his fingertips could explore the smooth skin of her back. "Well," he grinned, "maybe it can wait..."  
  
Things progressed at a deliberate pace, each wanting to linger over the other as they kissed and touched and explored. Soon his shirt was open to the waist and hers was half off as he nipped at her throat and worked at the clasp of her bra with eager haste. Concentrating on her throaty sounds of encouragement, he almost didn't notice the jolt.  
  
Almost.  
  
"What was that?" Kaydia asked, pushing away and looking around.  
  
"I... don't know," he responded, looking around as well. "Maybe the thrust regulators? Or the inertial compensators? I..."  
  
The ship lurched again, followed by a metallic clang as something struck the hull. Moments later, scraping could be heard. "Shit!" Quentin declared, looking around frantically as he moved Kaydia from his lap. "Something grabbed us!"  
  
As he rose, the sounds of cutters working at the lock could be heard. "I don't remember - did we bring your gun? If not, there's an arms locker over there." He pointed at a wide door near the fresher. "We're going to be boarded."

Kaydia bent over to scoop up her discarded shirt; her bra could wait, too much work to put on while they were under attack. Slipping her tank top back on, she made her way to the weapons, taking a moment to pick the best weapon for the situation. She decided on a bo staff and a small blaster, strapping it to her waist.

 Dizziness washed over her as she made her way to the spot where boarding harpoon had connected with the hull. She recognized this, from the first time she was captured, with Master Bry-Ta.  “We need…gas masks…” Kaydia gasped out, remembering how easily she and her master went down to their opponents last time. She focused her force powers to cleanse the coma gas from her lungs, but it was difficult to keep up the process, as each breath threatened to knock her out.

"Gas masks?" Quentin repeated, momentarily confused. Then the first wave of dizziness hit him, and he sagged against the bulkhead for support. Calling on the Force, he set his lungs to the difficult task of absorbing only oxygen into his bloodstream and his kidneys and liver to filtering the toxins he'd already absorbed. As Kaydia made her way past, heading for the lock, he exhaled a greenish white plume of waste gasses and coma gas. Then, refusing to inhale, he turned to one of the emergency panels.

The cutters tore a hole in the ship, and poured in through the opening. A green skinned twi’lek lead the raid, followed by a handful of humans and near humans, each wearing a mask over his mouth and nose.  Kaydia hit one of the raiders in the shoulder, but found it increasingly difficult to focus on detoxifying the poison from her lungs while also aiming and firing the blaster. She took one more deep breath, holding it so she could keep her attention on their attackers.

Her next shot killed her target, but not before several more could close the distance, wielding stun sticks.  She dropped her pistol and brought out her staff, just blocking the first strike, before the second hit her in the side. She gasped, letting out the air she was holding in, and forcing her to take a second breath of poisoned air.  She struck a weak blow to one attacker, who retaliated with a blow of his own, from his stun stick. She couldn’t keep this up, holding her breath, fighting off multiple intruders and cleansing the poison from her system. Another blow knocked her into the wall, head swimming from the impact. One more prolonged prod from the stun stick was all she needed to pass out.

* * *

  
What came next was painful. Even with his blood richly oxygenated, his empty lungs ached to draw breath. Worse, he could still feel the gas working on him, slowing his actions and fuddling his thoughts. Clearly, it had both contact and inhalation vectors. As he heard the first shots exchanged and heard the first cries of pain and anger, he got the panel open and settled a breather on his face. Fresh oxygen flooded his lungs, letting him temporarily shake the effects of the gas.  
  
He heard Kaydia cry out, felt the stun sticks impacting her as consciousness fled. His heart leapt into his throat, and he mentally repeated the Litany as he ignited his lightsaber, struggling for calm. It wasn't easy. Even unconscious, her dread and terror burned in his mind, and he shook with adrenaline and rage as the first of the pirates entered the  _Scrapper's_  "lounge"  
  
That pirate died as he called on the Force to slam him into the bulkhead with a bone-shattering impact. "Shit!" shouted a mask-distorted voice. "Jedi!"  
  
Another wave of dizziness hit Quentin. The gas, seeping in through his pores. If he didn’t end this quickly, or at least get out of the gas, he'd go down. So he charged the hallway, deflecting stun charges with his lightsaber. The closest pirate tried desperately to parry with a stun stick, and the luminous silver blade sheared through weapon and torso without slowing. As the corpse fell he struck out with the Force, hurling three more pirates backwards.  
  
A stun bolt struck his shoulder, causing his lightsaber to drop from nerveless fingers. As he called it back to his left hand, two more bolts struck his chest. One sent numbness across his torso and the other fused his breather. An involuntary deep breath, caused by the stinging pain of the stunner, filled his lungs with the gas. He went down, numb arm failing him as he tried to catch himself on hands and knees.  
  
He barely felt the torrent of stun beams that struck him.

  
When Kaydia awoke, her hands were bound before her, and connected to a chain in the ceiling. She was given enough slack that she could move about the cell, a 3-meter by 3-meter square. Across the hallway from her, she could see Quentin similarly restrained, still passed out. 

For the second time in her life, Kaydia was a prisoner to slavers. Last time, She and Master Bri Ta were sold to the Black sun for experimentation, who had a bounty in place for Jedi specifically. In her padawan robes, and wielding a lightsaber, Kaydia was determined to be a prime candidate for the bounty. She wondered who the slavers intended to sell the two of them to, this time around. At least this time her force abilities weren’t out in the open. This time she might find an opening to escape, and even rescue Quentin.

The chains drew taut, jerking Kaydia's arms into the air. The door swung open, and a man entered. He was tall, with long blonde hair pulled into a tail, and a sharp chin, hawk nose, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a grey military greatcoat with the insignia stripped off, and a loose silk shirt tucked into black slacks. A vibrosword with an ornate guard hung on one hip, a long-barreled blaster on the other, and Quentin's lightsaber was tucked into his belt. He smiled, cruelly, and sketched a mocking bow.  
  
"Welcome aboard, m'lady," he laughed. "And I must thank you –your friend is quite a prize. Quentin Hall, rogue Jedi. The Jedi Council offered a hundred thousand dactaries for information leading to his capture. A tidy profit."  
  
His eyes played over her figure. "You're not bad either - I might get as much as three hundred thousand from the Black Sun for you." He stepped forward, fingers hooking in the collar of her tank top. Muscles bulged as he jerked, and the fabric tore away. His hand was rough as he fondled her bared breasts. "Maybe more, once me and my crew finish  _training_  you."

Kaydia held the disgust at bay for the moment, focusing on a plan, and not how much she would enjoy killing this man. As much as she might have wanted to show him a slow, painful death, it might not be an option, if she hoped to escape with her life. Hers and Quentin’s, as she realized a universe without him wasn’t a universe she wanted to live in.

She had to determine how many men were on board. She counted a dozen raiders on the ship and she killed one or two, she couldn’t be quite sure. How many did Quentin kill before he passed out? How many more were waiting behind on the ship? Too many uncertainties.

She looked around the cells. Two, so not a terribly large ship. Still, there could be a dozen men or twenty. More than enough a gunfight would end poorly for her. If Quentin were conscious, the odds would feel better, but he was still out cold. She didn’t have nearly enough information yet, but perhaps she could get it right from the captain’s mouth.

“Hey now, no need to be rough with me,” She purred out, slipping into Shadi’s skin. It wasn’t the first time she used sex to save herself against a man that would do her harm. It might have been the first time she felt conflicted about it, given the budding relationship with Quentin, but he would understand, wouldn’t he?

“You got me tied up, not much I can do to stop you. So why should I bother? I could show you a real nice time. Don’t you want to know what it’s like to be with a woman who can make a Jedi forget his oaths? I might not need as much training as you think.” She licked her lips as he grinned up at her. He switched breasts, pinching and twisting her nipple until it was as erect as its twin. Years of dealing with unwanted touches prepared her for this moment, as her lips curled into a longing smile.

“So, how many of your men want a turn with me, hmm? Are they going to take me all at once, or is there a line?” She cooed, as he moved closer to her.

He stopped groping her for a moment, and a wicked smirk grew on his face. Just as quickly the back of his hand struck her jaw, busting open her lip. The blow left her dizzy and confused by the warm coppery taste on her tongue.

“You must think I am a fucking idiot. I know you killed two of my men. You think I am not going to take their revenge out on your sweet body? Or take vengeance for the couple your man killed? I figure by the time he wakes up half my men will be balls deep in you. But hell, you might like getting fucked by some real men for once, huh slut?”

By now the rage and desire to kill him were too strong to deny.  She tried to kick him, lifting her leg up half way before a shock passed through her body, causing her to writhe against her chains.  The worst part was that it was difficult to tell if the shock hurt, or felt good. Somehow both, as she felt her stomach flutter at the sensation. The captained laughed at her bewilderment, pulling a remote from his coat pocket.

“Subdermal induction nodes, or as I like to call them, SIN. Feels good, don’t it?” he mocked, as she shuddered in the aftermath. “How is your boyfriend going to feel when he wakes up to you moaning like a whore for me?”

"For  _us_ , don't you mean?"  
  
The speaker was a woman, leaning against the door of the cell. She had short hair, so blonde as to be nearly white, ice blue eyes, and features that resembled the captain's. She wore a white leather corset over a tight white shirt, and tight white leather pants that clung to her like a second skin, under dove grey boots. Two heavy blasters were strapped to her thighs, and a bag hung from one shoulder.  
  
"Oh, by all means." The captain licked his lips slowly. "I was just getting her warmed up for us, sister." He held up an arm, letting the light catch a wristband he wore, and another wave of pleasurable pain (painful pleasure?) danced along Kaydia's nerves.  
  
The woman laughed. "Good," she purred, stalking forward. "I've got the cameras set up. Her nails trailed down Kaydia's body. They were sharpened, leaving scratches and beads of blood from her shoulder, over the left breast, and down her abdomen. "You're going to be  _famous_ , whore." She undid Kaydia's belt. "This is going live to the crew, and we'll release it on the Holonet as well." The chains jerked, lifting the assassin's feet from the ground as the pirate stripped her pants away. "The whole  _galaxy_  is going to watch us rape you, at a credit a minute."


	11. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin awakens, only to discover something terrible has happened to Kaydia.

# Broken

 _Terror._  
  
Rage.  
  
Despair.  
  
Shame.  
  
Pain.  
  
Quentin could feel all of those sensations as consciousness slowly returned. He fought for calm as he recognized them for Kaydia's feelings. He called on the Force, pushing his heart to beat faster and his kidneys and liver to work faster, cleaning the last of the gas from his blood. Finally, he could open his eyes.  
  
No sign of Kaydia. Just corpses. Corpses, and the taste of hate.  
  
He struggled for calm, turning his attention to the fetters that bound his wrists. Simple things of steel, with no elaborate locks. He focused on them for a moment and they snapped. Chafing circulation back into his hands, he stepped cautiously into the hall. One of the many dead pirates yielded up a weapon - a stubby, large-bore blaster - and he began to search.  
  
Finding Kaydia wasn't hard. Even if he hadn't been able to sense the hell-broth of emotions she was broadcasting, he could have followed her trail. A blind man could have followed the path of scorched bulkheads and blood and bodies. And the closer he got, the harder it was to remain dispassionate. He knew what the pirates had done to her - perhaps not the full details, but her discordant thoughts told him enough. More than enough.  
  
But the sight of her, when he finally found her, was still a physical blow. Naked, body marked with bruises and dried blood and cum, with the barrel of a blaster forced into the mouth of a whimpering, wide-eyed man. He wanted to run to her, hold her and try to make things better. Make things right. Her sadistic glee at the man's suffering ad fear mingled with the taste of her own rage and shame and fear and self-hatred of that fear and shame, and he shook with adrenaline.  
  
"Kaydia," he said, walking into the room. "Please, put the gun down." He moved forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to take the gun from her. Wanted to use it himself. Wanted to slowly burn the flesh from the man's bones. Wanted to inflict a measure of the hell she'd been through on him.  
  
"Not like this, Kaydia," he whispered, voice gentle. "Not for..."  
  
"Pwease..." the pirate whimpered around the barrel.  
  
"Shut. Up," Quentin snapped, slamming his head against the wall with the Force. He drew a deep breath, fighting back the hate that swirled and snarled in his mind as he turned his attention back to his lover. "For yourself, not for him. Don't do this. Not like this."

 “I need clothes. Where is the Captain’s sister’s cabin?” She demanded, pushing the nozzle of the blaster into his temple.

“Last door on the right side, in the crew quarters,” the man answered, shaking as tears filled his eyes.

“Lucky for you, my man here thinks you should live, to save my soul or whatever. So make yourself useful and delete all copies of that video,” Kaydia instructed.

“I…I can but, It was already uploaded to the Holonet,” he explained, voice breaking. Kaydia froza, and new rage and shame filled her mind and flowed to his. He took another step towards her until– 

She pulled the trigger, and the small room filled with the stench of ozone and cooked blood. He could have stopped her, of course. He probably  _should_  have stopped her. He was a Jedi after all - his job was justice, not revenge. But fuck it. And fuck this piece of filth, who hadn't raped his Kaydia only because he hadn't been given the chance.  
  
As Kaydia limped from the room, Quentin checked the controls. The recording was still live. So he flipped a switch, ending it. For an instant he considered watching the recording, seeing exactly what they had done to her. Then he tapped in a command and purged the data. He couldn't stop the live transmission, or erase any recordings, but he could do this much for her.  
  
Then, with a howl of frustrated fury, he tore the console loose and smashed it against the far wall. And then crushed it. And then smashed it against another wall. Finally, standing in the wrecked aftermath, he breathed hard and struggled for control.  _No wonder the Council tries to forbid love,_  he thought, distantly.  _I'd have killed them all, if she hadn't beaten me to it._  
  
Suddenly, his gut clenched in terror as he realized something. Kaydia's emotions, something which he'd sensed distantly since their first meeting and which had become a constant presence in his mind, were... gone. Nothing remained but a numb emptiness. "Kaydia!" he shouted, bursting from the room. "Kaydia! Where are..."  
  
He froze. She was slumped across a bed, a needle in her hand. Then he practically flew to her side, frantically checking her pulse. It was slow. Slow, but strong. And she still breathed. He tore the syringe from her hand, cracking it open and tasting the last tiny drops of the milky fluid within.  
  
Inertia.  
  
"Oh, love," he murmured, sitting next to her and cradling her unresponsive body in his arms. "I'm sorry, Kaydia. I'm sorry."


End file.
